GI Joe: Rise of Cobra
by Lord Leachim
Summary: In response to the new terrorist threat known as Cobra, the US Military creates a special task force known under the code name GI Joe. Unrelated to the movie, this is my own personal version of what a good GI Joe movie would be.
1. Prologue: Seven Years Ago

_A little while ago I posted a detailed plot synopsis for my version of what the GI Joe movie should be. I got some comments and decided to write it out as a complete novel. It is not influenced in any way by the new movie coming out, for better or worse. It's just my idea of what a great GI Joe movie would be._

_I'm busy working on my Resident Evil Saga, so I cannot promise updates on any regular basis, but I will try to work on this novel as often as I can. If I get some reviews I might be motivated to work on it more often (hint, hint)._

Prologue

Seven Years Ago

Explosions rocked the city of Baghdad like a string of massive firecrackers. Each blast seemed to shake the ground and send rubble and debris toppling from the buildings, where it fell on the soldiers like hail. The street was littered with garbage and abandoned cars, and a carpet of spent bullet casings.

Sergeant Lonzo Wilkinson pressed his back into the peeling paint of a storefront wall and peered down the dusty avenue, squinting his eyes to see through the glare of the midday sun on the bright white and cream-colored buildings. He gripped his M-16 assault rifle and held the stock firm against his shoulder, aiming it down the street. His squad crept up along the building edge right behind him.

No one on his squad ever called him Lonzo, and rarely called him Sergeant, except when other officers were around. Everyone on his squad had a nickname that started with the letter S. He had started the tradition himself as soon as he was promoted to the rank of Sergeant, to create a sense of camaraderie and friendship among the troops. His own nickname was a gang alias he used on the streets of Detriot, in another lifetime before joining the army. He was known among his squad as Stalker.

Beside him crouched Spike and Samson, aiming their own rifles down the adjacent alleyway, scanning for any movement. They had been lucky so far that day, having encountered little resistance on their forward patrol. Each day the military claimed another few blocks of the city, and within a few weeks they were confident that all of Baghdad would be under control. But until then, they had to deal with a constant stream of insurgents and guerilla fighters.

Stalker pointed forward and the team slowly edged along the side of the building, moving as one unit with Stalker in front and a squad member nicknamed Scooby covering the rear. Their radio man, Squeaky, was in the center, keeping their squad constantly in touch with command, as well as the Black Hawk helicopters circling the city. The other members of Stalker's squad, in no particular order, were Storm, Soccer, Scratch, and Snake.

They entered an open intersection along the main street, where two open markets faced each other next to a wide alleyway strewn with crates and barrels and other containers. The markets were abandoned now, a hot breeze blowing through the scattered tables and chairs, making the edges of the fabric screen roof flap and flutter.

"I don't like this," he heard someone whisper behind him.

Before Stalker had time to agree, he caught movement in a doorway along the edge of the market. He raised his gun, and immediately, more figures appeared in the windows above them.

"Get cover!" Stalker shouted as gunfire erupted over their heads.

The men scrambled across the intersection or back the way they had come. Stalker dove behind a thick concrete slab holding up the post for the market roof, crouching protectively as bullets rattled around him. He adjusted his helmet and risked a glance around the edge of the slab to see where the shooting was coming from.

Three men in the windows on the second floor, and another on the third. By the sound of them, they were using standard AK-47s, and they probably didn't know how to use them effectively. Many of the insurgents were not weapons experts, and Stalker had learned that most of them were not very good shots either.

He glanced behind him and saw two of his squad members crouched defensively behind an abandoned vehicle. It was not the best place to hide, since bullets could easily penetrate the doors and frame, but they were each ducked behind the car's engine, where none but the most powerful bullets could get them. It was Storm and Scratch, each of them peeking up over the hood before ducking their heads back down. They had a better angle on the shooters than Stalker did.

Across the intersection, Spike, wielding one of the squad's two M-249 machine guns, leaned out and tilted the huge gun upward, opening fire with a deafening roar. Stalker watched as bullets sprayed across the side of the building, letting off little puffs of dust and chunks of plaster with each bullet. He riddled the side of the building, spraying bullets across the windows where the insurgents were shooting from.

"Come on!" Stalker shouted, jumping up and taking off across the intersection. Storm and Scratch were a few footsteps behind him. They all reached the other side unharmed, rejoining the rest of the squad.

Spike lowered the gun and ducked around the corner. As soon as he did so, more gunfire burst out, but Stalker doubted anyone was taking the time to aim. Squeaky was already on the phone, shouting their coordinates over the roar of gunfire. The welcome sound of a helicopter came from high above them. Stalker looked up but couldn't see it.

"Stalker! There!" Scooby shouted, pointing an arm across the street from them.

Three men appeared from a doorway, wearing dirty rags and bandanas across their faces, battered AK-47s in their hands. One of them ducked into a shallow doorway while the others ducked behind some crates. They stuck their guns up over the edge of the crates and opened fire, but their bullets when high.

Stalker raised his gun and opened fire. His bullets burst apart the edge of the doorway, sending chips of brick flying. The Iraqi insurgent leaned out to return fire and staggered backward, blood erupting across his chest. He stumbled back and slid to the ground, the gun falling from his hands.

Storm, Spike, Samson, and Soccer edged around the side of the building again. The whole squad was in an awkward position now, pinned out in the open between the shooters up in the windows, and the men shooting at them from down the street. Spike opened fire again, giving the squad some cover. Stalker led them around the building as Squeaky shouted into his microphone. They all could hear the Black Hawk overhead, but it must have been a block or two away.

Storm, a young Asian man and the youngest member of the squad, jumped in front of a doorway and opened fire, blasting the doorknob apart and splintering the wood. He kicked it in and continued shooting. Stalker gritted his teeth at his foolishness. Storm was a talented soldier, but he was too reckless, especially in the heat of battle.

Bullets popped along the ground a few feet away, sending up splashes of dirt. They returned fire randomly, trying to find some kind of cover. Above them, the shooters pointed their guns downward and fired wildly. Spike shouted and fired up at the windows again. One of the shooters above fell away the window, his gun falling down to the street.

Finally, the Black Hawk helicopter appeared in the sky directly above the intersection, its rotors sending a torrent of dust and sand around like a tornado. The gigantic hum of the chopper deafened Stalker to all other noise and he had to shield his eyes from the blowing sand.

An M134 Minigun swiveled around on the side of the helicopter and opened fire on the side of the building. The gun's muzzle flash was like a flare as bullets erupted from the gun at a rate approaching 3,000 rounds per minute. The gun cut through the building's walls like a knife through butter, and Stalker felt a brief moment of pity for the men in those rooms.

"Let's go!" he shouted as loud as he could, taking off across the intersection and past the market area to the relative safety of the other side. His squad followed him, and he glanced back to see Storm, Spike, and Snake lagging behind. More bullets came flying at them from down the street and his men returned fire.

There was a bright flash of light and a trail of smoke as a rocket launched into the air from the alleyway on the other side of the street, behind the chopper. It shrieked into the air and struck the Black Hawk right in the vertical rotor. The helicopter shuddered and immediately began to rotate in the air, smoke streaming from the shattered rear rotor. It spun around a few times and lowered to the street.

Stalker led the team across the street once more, to the corner opposite their original position. The helicopter spun dizzily, tilting back and forth, the rotors leaning dangerously close to hitting nearby buildings. Stalker's silent prayers were answered, this one time, and the chopper hit the ground with a lurch, staying upright as the rotors powered down. It was only about twenty yards away, but the middle of a firefight, twenty yards might as well be twenty miles.

Snake ran forward, opening fire at the pile of crates where the other pair of insurgents were hiding. Wood splintered as the bullets ripped into them. He pounded to the edge of the building and braced his shoulder there, firing a line of bullets across the top of the crates. Like always, he wore a bandana across his mouth and nose, so only his piercing blue eyes could be seen under the brim of his helmet. He had been a member of the squad for two years and was one of Stalker's closest personal friends on the team, although some of the other members found him a bit antisocial because he rarely spoke.

"Get the pilots!" Stalker shouted.

As the laid down covering fire, Storm and Samson ran to the helicopter doors and helped the pilots and the machine gunner out. The gunner had an M-16 as well and could defend himself, but the pilots were only armed with pistols.

Suddenly, more bullets descended on them from an unknown location, and sprayed across the side of the chopper, right across where Storm and one of the pilots were standing. Storm cried out and spun around, grabbing his shoulder, and the pilot fell to the ground in a heap beside him.

"There!" Spike bellowed. "The roof!"

Two more Iraqis were up on the roof, firing down at the squad. They fired back, but the insurgents ducked back away.

Snake ran toward the chopper, slinging his rifle over his shoulder. When the insurgents behind the crates tried to return fire, Spike opened up with his M-249 and blasted the crates into splinters. The two men cried out and fell over backward.

The pilot was the more wounded of the two, so Snake lifted him up by the arm and hoisted the pilot over his shoulder like a sack of flour. Storm desperately lifted his gun and opened fire toward the roof, blood spilled all the way down his arm and another circle of blood on his thigh. Snake shuffled back to the edge of the building and deposited the pilot on the ground before heading back for Storm. The shooters on the roof reappeared, but one of them was no longer holding a machine gun.

The RPG on his shoulder fired with a whoosh of smoke and the rocket shot down toward the helicopter. Snake grabbed the straps of Storm's backpack and hauled him backward, pulling him right along the ground because he was too heavy to lift with all of his gear.

Stalker screamed for them to get down, but it was too late. The rocket struck the front of the chopper and exploded in a blast of billowing orange flame and the piercing shriek of tearing metal. Wreckage and shrapnel flew into the air and streams of flame lifted up like geysers.

Snake went immediately limp and fell over backward, slumping to the ground like a rag doll. Storm covered his face to protect himself from the flames. The squad continued to return fire toward the roof as Stalker and Scratch ran out to pull their teammates to safety.

"Good Jesus," Stalker breathed, looking down at the bloody smear that was Snake's face. The entire front of his face and neck was gushing blood, and little bubbles appeared at the edge of his mouth, showing that he was still breathing. Stalker pulled Snake up to the building and sat him upright. Scratch managed to pull Storm out of harm's way, and he crawled beside Snake, wincing at the pain of his own wounds and looking in shock at Snake's face.

Squeaky was already on the radio, calling for evac. The helicopter burned like a bonfire, sending a huge black column of smoke into the air. The squad stayed in place until backup arrived, an excruciating twelve minutes later.


	2. Chapter One: Modern Day

Chapter One

Modern Day

Newly-promoted First Sergeant Conrad Hauser walked briskly down the long, sterile hallway, his uniform crisp and clean. His dress shoes clicked neatly on the hard linoleum floor, echoing down the corridor. Huge windows to his right gave him a view of the Potomac River. This was only his second ever visit to the Pentagon, and his calm exterior did not match the churning nervousness he felt.

There was no real reason to be worried, of course. But the prospect of meeting personally with a General was enough to make any non-commissioned soldier nervous. A black leather attaché case rested under his arm, containing a series of reports he had authored in the past few weeks. It was his understanding that his meeting with the General regarded the reports, although it surprised him that anyone had taken the time to even read them.

As he walked down the hall, a woman passed him going the other way. She was a tall blonde wearing glasses with black frames, her lips coated in dark red lipstick. She wore a plain black blouse and skirt, marking her as a civilian. Hauser caught himself glancing down at her legs. Her skirt was not quite short enough to be considered inappropriate, but it was still short enough to attract attention.

He looked back up and caught her eyes for a brief moment as they passed each other. She smiled and winked at him. Hauser looked back as she walked away and admired her legs once more, displayed above her black high heels. He grinned to himself, feeling slightly more at ease.

Checking the memo tucked into his pocket to make sure he had the right number, he went inside one of the Pentagon's many offices and walked up to the desk. A middle-aged woman sat behind the desk, typing at a computer. She glanced up as Hauser came in.

"Can I help you?"

"I'm here to see General Abernathy."

The secretary ran her finger down an appointment book on her desk. "Sergeant Hauser, correct?"

"Yes."

"You can go right in," she said with a smile. "He's been waiting for you."

Hauser cleared his throat, took a deep breath, and went to the door. He turned the knob and walked inside, closing it after him.

The office was large but not exactly luxurious. The carpet was dark green, and appropriate photos of military service dotted the walls, along with a few honors and awards, and a large American flag. The office smelled new, as if the General had just moved in.

When Hauser entered, General Abernathy was leaning against the front of his desk, instead of sitting behind it as Hauser had expected. Wearing dark blue slacks and a light blue dress shirt, Abernathy had his arms crossed over his chest and a jovial smile on his face. He was talking to someone else in the office, and he stopped in mid-sentence when Hauser came in.

Hauser stood at attention and saluted. Abernathy smiled and acknowledged it, and Hauser returned to an at ease posture. "General Abernathy?" he said, somewhat awkwardly, having interrupted the conversation. "Your secretary said I could come right in."

"Yes, of course," the General said. "We were just talking."

He came forward and shook Hauser's hand firmly. He offered him a chair and walked around to the other side of the large oak desk. He gestured to the other officer in the room, an African American with a Major's insignia on the sleeve of his green uniform. He stood up and shook Hauser's hand as well.

"Sergeant Hauser, please meet Major Wilkinson," Abernathy said, taking a seat. "I've asked him here as well for this little meeting."

Wilkinson sat back down in a chair against the wall, and Hauser sat down in one of the two office chairs facing the front of the desk. He set the attaché case in his lap and sat up straight out of habit.

Abernathy was probably in his fifties at least, but he wore his years well and came across as no older than about forty. He had marked creases on his forehead, and a tinge of gray at his temples invaded his otherwise dark brown hair, but his eyes were sharp and active, and his mouth seemed perpetually on the edge of a smile. He leaned forward and rested his elbows on the desk, steepling his fingers.

"I see you brought a copy of your reports," he said, pointing at the attaché case.

"Yes," Hauser said. "I have copies of all six."

"If you like, you can hand them over to Major Wilkinson. He hasn't had a chance to read all of them yet."

Hauser did so, handing the case over to Wilkinson. "I didn't think they would get this much attention, sir. I have to admit I'm really not sure what this meeting is about."

"Well then, let me get straight to the point," Abernathy said. "As you certainly know by now, the main threat to our country doesn't come from enemy nations, as it did in the past. Our primary focus, along with defending our borders, is combating international terrorism."

"Of course, sir."

Abernathy nodded to himself and leaned back in his chair. "Since the events of September 11th, we've been tasked with identifying and dealing with terrorist threats from all across the globe. Other federal agencies like the FBI and CIA do this as well, but they both rely on us to deal with the threats that they discover. Of course, we focus on major terrorist and extremist organizations, such as Al Qaeda, the Taliban, Hezbollah, Hamas, Al-Shabaab, and even the IRA. But identifying new threats is just as important as dealing with known ones. Which brings me to your reports."

Hauser nodded. "Cobra."

"Yes. I had never heard of this group until I your reports crossed my desk."

"I don't think many people have, sir. They're pretty new, it seems."

"But you think they pose a major threat."

Hauser let out a short laugh and nodded emphatically. "Yes, sir. I certainly do."

The group known as Cobra had been active for maybe as long as five or six years, or even longer, but concrete information on them was rare and sketchy at best. The first inkling of the group's activity was a series of daring bank robberies five years ago, when two men had stolen close to three million dollars over the course of several months, before finally running out of luck. Both men were gunned down while trying to evade capture after their eighth robbery. Both men wore dark red shirts with a large snake head emblem printed on it, although the importance of that image was not understood at the time. None of the money from their previous robberies was ever recovered.

Nearly a year later, there was an attempt on the life of a well-known Senator. The would-be assassin had the snake head emblem tattooed on his arm. Another series of bank robberies followed, although this time the perpetrators got away, each of them identified in security videos wearing the same red shirts as the other bank robbers. Anonymous postings were made on public websites regarding the "rise of the Cobra" and the "new world order of Cobra." Mexican officials uncovered a huge bribery scandal involving a group calling themselves Cobra, although no one was ever arrested. A lobbyist in Washington was murdered, and hidden memos in his office made mention of Cobra. A huge identity theft scheme in Florida led investigators to an abandoned office with the mysterious snake head emblem on the wall. The FBI had some files on a possible religious cult called Cobra, after receiving worried phone calls from a handful of parents who claimed their children were being brainwashed. No solid evidence was ever found of illegal activity.

Major Wilkinson lowered the reports into his lap, looking impressed. "How in the world did you compile all of this information?" he asked.

"I have some friends in the FBI," Hauser said. "They gave me access to some files. The rest was just grunt paperwork. The more I researched, the more connections I found. It was kind of strange, actually."

"You started your investigation after the kidnapping of Dr. Ward Stevens, is that right?" Abernathy asked.

"Yes, that's where I first learned about the group."

Dr. Stevens, a noted neurologist and behavioral psychologist, had been kidnapped from his New York offices five months earlier. A grainy video from a security camera located outside the building showed at least one of the kidnappers wearing a Cobra shirt. The police investigation into the kidnapping had gone nowhere, and so far his current whereabouts were still unknown. No messages or ransom demands had ever been received.

"There was another scientist kidnapped as well, wasn't there?" Wilkinson asked. "I heard about it on the news."

"Yes," Hauser said. "Two scientists, actually. There was a researcher at Purdue, also a psychologist, specializing in the effects of various drugs on brain chemistry. He disappeared without a trace about four months ago. And there was also a Belgian scientist named Dr. Emile Brusch, who also disappeared four months ago. He ran an institute working on the use of mind-altering drugs to combat mental disorders."

"You think they're all connected?" Abernathy asked.

"It seems possible. Three scientists all studying the same thing, kidnapped with a month or two of each other?"

Abernathy glanced over at Major Wilkinson, who only nodded. "And you think that Cobra is responsible for all three kidnappings?"

"I don't have access to any European files," Hauser said. "So I can't be sure, but I'd bet that there is evidence that Cobra was involved."

"You'd be right," Abernathy said. He opened a drawer on his desk and pulled out a manilla folder stuffed with sheets of paper, then handed it to Hauser. "I got these faxed over from the US Embassy in Belgium."

Hauser started scanning the papers as Abernathy summarized. "They found fingerprints in Brusch's office that belonged to a man named Sebastian Bludd. He's wanted by Interpol for a long list of crimes in Europe and Russia, but we don't have much information on him. Turns out that Interpol almost caught him last year in England. He got away that time, but they found lots of evidence when they searched his safe house, including a briefcase full of money."

Hauser turned the page and saw a photocopy of the picture of the briefcase. Printed right on it was a large snake head, the Cobra insignia.

"They think he's working for Cobra?"

Abernathy nodded. "Seems that way. It looks like this group called Cobra is starting to enter the big time. If they have enough influence to hire a man like Bludd, then they're bigger than we think. And these kidnappings are serious, especially because the police investigations have turned up nothing. This group has learned to cover its tracks very well."

Hauser set the folder down. He would read the rest of it later. "Sir, if the military is concerned with Cobra, I would be more than happy to help in any way I can."

"I think you can do one better than that, Sergeant," Abernathy said with a smile. "I have been granted authority to create a new task force for this exact purpose. It will be a joint operation between all the branches of the military, and will deal primarily with terrorist activity here in the United States. The first order of business will be an investigation of Cobra."

"And you'd like me to ... brief the team?" Hauser offered.

"Sergeant," Abernathy said, "I'm offering you a position on the team. You'll be third in command, under myself and Major Wilkinson."

"I'd be honored, sir," Hauser said quickly, almost stumbling over the words. "How long will it take to recruit the team? How many other members are there?"

Abernathy chuckled. "Right now it's just the three of us. But it won't take long to recruit the other members. Major Wilkinson and I already have some people in mind."


	3. Chapter Two

Chapter Two

The file storage room smelled of dust and old paper. Row upon row of cardboard file boxes held thirty years' worth of paper documents. There were several such storage rooms in the Pentagon, some less guarded than others. The door opened with a squeak and the fluorescent lights flickered on, illuminating the long rectangular room.

The woman who had passed Hauser in the hallway earlier stepped inside, quietly closing the door behind her. She tucked an identification card into her pocket and pursed her lips, looking around the room uncertainly. She walked across a few aisles to a row of large filing cabinets against the wall. She tried one of them, but they were all locked. Each cabinet had four drawers, secured by a lock on the upper right corner that would unlock all four drawers.

The woman knelt down and inserted a small plastic rod into the lock. She twisted the end and scurried away behind some rows of cardboard boxes. A few seconds later, the rod exploded with a muffled thump, blowing the lock apart with a burst of plastic and smoke. The top drawer slid open, smoke rising up from the rows of files within.

The woman flipped through the files, taking out a few folders jammed with blueprints and diagrams. She didn't take the time to read them carefully. She went to the next cabinet and took another explosive pin from her pocket.

The door opened and she stood up straight, holding the folders flat against her chest. She turned around with a toss of her blonde hair, a friendly smile on her face.

A guard entered the room and looked around for a moment before walking towards her. He wore his full military uniform and had a pistol holstered at his hip. "Excuse me, ma'am," he said politely. "Can I see your identification, please?"

"Certainly," she said, coming toward him. She reached into her pocket and held out the identification card.

The guard looked over her shoulder. "Do you smell smoke?" he asked.

The card slipped from her hand and fluttered to the floor. "Oh, gosh! I'm sorry," she said, bending over to pick it up.

The guard bent over as well. "It's okay, ma'am. I can –"

She jumped up and slammed her knee directly into the guard's face, crushing his nose. He jerked backward, fumbling for his gun. The woman dropped the folders and swung her elbow at his face, grabbing his arm with her other hand. She hit him right in the temple and he staggered to the side. Grabbing his collar, she pivoted and spun him right into the wall. He crumpled to the floor in a heap, his pistol falling from the holster. She kicked it down the aisle and it slid under one of the metal bookshelves.

She took a deep breath and smoothed out the front of her blouse. Checking to make sure there was no blood on her knee from when she broke the guard's nose, she quickly picked up the folders and returned to the filing cabinets. She only spent a few minutes searching them before she gave up. She left the room, turning the light off after her.

It took almost ten minutes before she made it out of the building. All the while she kept her breathing steady, casually holding the folders under her arm, covering the "Top Secret" markings with her sleeve. She nodded politely to people who passed her in the hall.

She walked out of the hallway to one of the large lobbies and headed for the exit. There were armed guards standing on duty, their green uniforms crisp and clean, their gold buttons shining in the daylight. The woman walked up to the doors and the guard politely held out his hand to stop her.

"Excuse me, ma'am," he said. "Can I see your identification?"

"Of course," she replied with a cool smile, reaching into her pocket. She froze then, her eyes blinking wide for just a second, as she realized the ID card was not there. It was still on the floor in the storage room; she had forgotten to pick it up after incapacitating the guard.

"Oh dear," she whispered. "I must have left it ..."

"Mrs. Carlisle," came a loud voice from behind her.

She turned as a man in a General's uniform approached her. He was tall and stocky, with a dark complexion, and a brown mustache and dark brown hair sticking out from under his hat. His black leather shoes were polished so much they shined. He smiled genially at the guard, who saluted.

The General returned the salute and touched the woman's arm. "I decided to join you for lunch after all," he said, a Western twang on the edge of his voice.

"I must have left my identification card on your desk," she said sheepishly.

"Oh, well that's no problem," he said. "It's okay, soldier. The young lady is with me."

The guard stepped aside and let them pass. The General patted him on the shoulder and said, "Have a good day, son."

"You too, sir. Thank you."

The woman walked briskly through the doors and out into the bright afternoon, breathing a sigh of relief. The General came up beside her and they walked down the sidewalk toward the parking lot.

"Thanks," she muttered.

"Don't thank me," the General said, his voice deeper than before, the Western accent gone. "Just doing my job."

Together they walked to the parking lot and got into a nondescript brown sedan with tan-colored seats. The woman sat down in the passenger seat and began skimming the papers in the folders. The man in the General's uniform got in the driver's seat and wordlessly started the car, glancing briefly at the woman before returning his eyes to the road.

In midday Washington traffic, it took just over an hour to go ten miles. They switched cars in a supermarket parking lot and drove away in smaller blue car. Another hour later, they stopped at a small chemical supply company and walked around to the back of the building, where a sleek black helicopter was waiting for them. They were beyond the No Fly Zone around the Capitol now, and could safely take flight.

The rotors began spinning as soon as they approached the chopper. They stepped inside the helicopter and slid the door closed. Moments later, the helicopter lifted upwards and flew into the air. It angled forward and flew in a northeast direction.

About an hour and a half later, the helicopter slowed and lowered down to a fenced-off compound in upper New York state. There was a two-story building in the center of the compound, as large as two city blocks. Armed guards in black and red uniforms patrolled the perimeter, and the fences surrounding the area were topped with razor wire.

The helicopter dipped down and slowly settled on a large concrete patio behind the building. The rotors slowed down as the chopper shut down.

A blonde in a business suit and a General with a mustache had entered the helicopter, but they did not come out. Instead, a brunette woman wearing a tight-fitting black leather outfit stepped out of the chopper, her legs encased in thigh-high black boots with stiletto heels. Her long brown hair whipped around as the rotors slowed down, and her eyes were shielded with large black sunglasses. She glanced around and stalked off the concrete pad toward the building.

Behind her, a man stepped from the helicopter. He wore black boots, black leather pants with a red stripe down the side, and a sleeveless leather vest. Black fingerless gloves were on his hands. His exposed chest and abs were ripped with muscle, as were his arms. His head was shaved, and his eyes were concealed behind a pair of small red sunglasses. He carried a black satchel bag from the helicopter and walked away in another direction.

The woman entered the building and went straight down the long hallway. The interior was decorated entirely with black marble and red metal, and more armed guards stood ready inside the hallway, letting her pass without comment. She went to the elevator and up to the second floor.

She took a deep breath and removed her sunglasses, tucking them into a pocket. The carpeted floor kept her footsteps silent as she walked down the hall to a large office at the end. Before entering, she licked her lips nervously and then unzipped a few inches of her leather outfit to reveal a hint of cleavage.

The doors slid open as soon as she approached, activated by motion sensor. The office was huge and sprawling, with a red carpet and black walls. Black leather chairs and couches dotted the floor here and there, with a few shining black end tables. Windows lined one wide of the office, looking out across the rear of the compound.

The letters M.A.R.S. were on the far wall in huge red letters, right behind a wide desk without a single object on its shining surface. The woman stepped inside the office and waited patiently as the man standing by the windows acknowledged her presence.

He wore an expensive dark gray suit that seemed to shimmer, as if coated with silver dust. Tall and thin, the man nevertheless held a forceful posture, his arms crossed, one hand lifted up to absentmindedly rub his chin. He had thinning brown hair and lines of age across his forehead, but his dark eyes were quick and active, and his movements were sleek and lithe.

"Anastasia," he said softly.

"Yes," the woman said, licking her lips again.

He turned to study her, but his eyes never left her face. He folded his hands behind his back and walked slowly in her direction. "I take it your little mission was not successful," he said, his voice soothing and harsh at the same time.

"I'm sorry, I didn't get anything. Just some old blueprints. Nothing we can use. Someone found me, and I had to knock him out, and I was afraid –"

"Shhh," the man said softly, as he came to stand right in front of her. He reached out and set his hands on her arms, and then leaned forward and placed a very gentle kiss on her cheek. His eyes softened for the briefest moment.

"I was worried," he said. "I'm glad you made it back okay."

Relief poured from the woman in a wave. She managed a smile and then reached up to take the man's hand, but he slipped away from her grasp and retreated farther into the office.

"I was hoping for some new information to sell," he said casually. "But it's okay. We'll just have to work with what we already have."

"When are you meeting with the new customer?" she asked, trying to keep with the conversation, afraid to stay silent.

"In a few hours. I must confess I have second thoughts about his sincerity, but he is certainly legitimate. Whether or not he can afford our services is another matter."

The woman walked forward. "Would you like me to come with you?" she asked hopefully.

"But of course," he said with a smile. "It's very important that you come with me. You are very important," he added. "I would not trust anyone else to stand by my side."

The woman let out a breath and smiled awkwardly, her cheeks flushed. She folded her hands in front of her to keep from fidgeting. "Thank you, James," she said softly.

The man stood in front of his desk and swept his hand along its flawless surface. Facing away from her, he smiled to himself. "Zartan returned with you, didn't he? Is he still here?"

"No, I don't think so. He probably left already."

"It's just as well. I'm sure he'll be back later to receive his payment."

"James," the woman said. "You know that I ... I don't really like Zartan that much. He makes me very uncomfortable. The way he looks at me, I mean."

"Yes, he a bit antisocial, I suppose. But he is a valuable asset just the same. A man with his talents is a rare thing."

"I guess so," the woman admitted.

The man smiled and went up to her again, taking her hands this time. "I think it's best we get ready. I would like to be there early if possible."

"Of course."

He looked into her eyes for another moment and then smiled once more. "Anastasia, would you please get my mask for me?"


	4. Chapter Three

Chapter Three

General Clayton Abernathy looked out across the serene wilderness of the Appalachian Mountains, his elbow resting on the armrest and his chin in his hand. Beside him in the driver's seat was Major Lonzo Wilkinson, although Abernathy usually called him Stalker privately. Their dusty black SUV bumped along a rarely-used dirt road heading into the mountains.

"Are you sure it was necessary to come all the way out here?" Abernathy asked.

"You already asked me that," Stalker said. "And the answer is still yes."

Abernathy chuckled and sighed, trying to enjoy the scenery. They had flown from Washington out to rural Pennsylvania and then rented the truck to drive out into the middle of nowhere, all on Stalker's suggestion. The past few days had been spent recruiting people for their new task force, and Abernathy didn't like the idea of spending so much time on an errand like this. He preferred to get things done right away, and even though they were not behind schedule by any measure, he would rather have settled this by a simple phone call. Unfortunately, their target apparently did not use phones.

"You think he'll say yes?"

Stalker nodded. "Yeah, I think he will. If I'm there to ask him. He trusts me."

"You know, I looked up his file before we left."

"I know."

"Quite a little history he has. I don't know if I've ever seen a file with so many Classified notations. He's pretty young to be so deep into black ops."

"He's a prodigy," Stalker said with a smile. "I know that he's on leave right now, so hopefully we can swing his transfer to the new team. Personally, I would feel a whole lot better if he came with us."

"Why did he leave your unit, anyway?"

"He got wounded during Iraqi Freedom, and then I did a few weeks later. By the time he was healed up, our unit was scattered. So he requested a transfer to Special Ops, and he's been there ever since."

"Must be hard to keep in touch with him."

"Very," Stalker said. "He's a hard man to find sometimes. Especially if he doesn't want to be found."

"Well then, I hope he wants to be found this time."

Stalker turned the steering wheel and drove the SUV off the dirt road onto a narrow track that was not even mowed. Tall grass divided the two uneven wheel ruts, and the SUV lurched side to side as Stalker maneuvered the pathetic excuse for a road. He drove in between some rows of trees and appeared in a small clearing.

"Well, the hard part is over," he announced, shutting the truck off. "We're here."

Abernathy opened the door and stuck his leg out. He carefully placed his foot on a rock to avoid getting mud on his shoes, but as soon as he put his weight on it, the rock sank down and his foot dipped into inch-deep mud.

"Wonderful," he said to himself.

Stalker walked around the truck and pointed. On the other side of the clearing there was a very rickety log cabin with a sunken porch and damaged roof. It had been built by hand, with twisted black logs of unequal lengths. The windows didn't even have glass in them. Abernathy couldn't imagine that someone could actually live in a building like that. It looked about ready to collapse in on itself.

He walked gingerly through the muddy clearing, crossing his arms across his chest. Stalker looked at him and smiled when he saw Abernathy's expression.

"You sure this is the right place?"

"Very sure."

"You sure this isn't where the Unabomber lived?"

Stalker chuckled and cupped his hands over his mouth. "Hey Snake! Are you in there? I got someone here who'd like to meet you!"

They waited for a few moments, but there was no motion within the tiny log cabin. There was barely any sound at all, just the whispery movement of the trees and a distant chipmunk chittering. Abernathy sighed and glanced at Stalker.

"Guess he's not home. He's probably out running errands or something."

"No," Stalker said. "He's probably standing right behind us."

Abernathy turned to look, and as if by magic, a figure had appeared right behind them. Abernathy flinched and took an involuntary step backwards, while Stalker only chuckled to himself.

The figure was dressed all in black, from head to toe. Black boots, black cargo pants, a black long-sleeved shirt with black gloves, and most surprisingly, a tight black facemask like a ski mask, and black goggles. Not an inch of skin was exposed. He stood as still as a statue, and there was not a spot of mud on his entire outfit. A long hunting knife hung from a sheath on his hip

"Good to see you again, Snake," Stalker said, walking toward him. Snake shook his hand firmly and nodded, then gestured at Abernathy, who had not quite regained his composure. "This is General Clay Abernathy," Stalker explained.

Snake stood straight and saluted appropriately. Abernathy acknowledged it and said cautiously, "Major Wilkinson has told me a lot about you. But I get the feeling he's barely scratched the surface."

Snake nodded.

Stalker looked at Abernathy. "You'll have to forgive him. I'm afraid he doesn't speak much. His injuries included damage to his throat and vocal chords. He can speak in a whisper, but he prefers not to speak at all."

"I can imagine. On a mission, you would be communicating in hand signals mostly anyway, correct?"

Snake nodded again, and as if to demonstrate that, he gave Abernathy a thumbs up. He crossed his muscular arms and looked at Stalker, tilting his head questioningly.

If they were sharing some kind of personal code of body language, Abernathy could not decode it. But Stalker seemed to know exactly what Snake meant to say.

"We have a new project we'd like you to be a part of. That is, the General and I. It's a new task force, specializing in covert anti-terrorism. A cooperative effort between all branches of the military. I requested you personally, and General Abernathy here agreed to come and meet you in person."

Snake uncrossed his arms and spread his hands.

"Right now the team is pretty small," Stalker explained. "We have a few candidates, but nothing has been finalized. I'm thinking maybe ten members in all, with different backgrounds and specialties."

Snake nodded and then pointed at himself, shaking his head.

"I've already worked that out," Stalker said. "The team is covert, and all team members will be using code names. So there's no reason for anyone to wonder about your name. Of course, you can still keep your own personal style," he added. "I know you'll want to keep your mask and your weapons."

Snake seemed to accept that, so he turned to look at Abernathy. His eyes were just barely visible behind the dark goggles.

"I don't know what else I can tell you," Abernathy admitted. "Stalker wants you to join the team, and I trust his judgment. If he says we need you, then I agree with him. It's up to you, of course."

Snake considered that, and then turned to look back at Stalker. Abernathy wondered how a man like that normally communicated, if he used regular sign language when around people who did not know his background. Stalker had only barely hinted at what Snake was like, and Abernathy found it somewhat disconcerting. Perhaps that was the whole point.

Snake gestured at Abernathy, and Stalker chuckled again. "Come on, man," he said. "Do you think I'd waste your time, and come all the way out to the middle of nowhere, if I didn't think this was a worthwhile project? We're trying to put together a crew that's the best of the best, and you're the best of them all, Snake."

Snake seemed taken aback, and he spread his fingers and placed them against his chest, feigning a meek posture. Abernathy could almost see the dialogue bubble above his head saying, "Who, me?"

"Trust me," Stalker said. "You want to be part of this."

Snake waited a moment and then nodded. Abernathy could almost hear a muffled laugh coming from underneath his mask. He pointed at his log cabin and Stalker waved him on.

"Go ahead, man. Get what you need. I know you travel light."

Snake walked off toward the cabin and disappeared inside. Abernathy shrugged. "Well, that was easy. Does he really stay silent all the time like that?"

"Yea, he does usually," Stalker said. "He never talked much even before he got hurt, so I guess I'm just used to it by now. It kind of weirds people out when they first meet him."

"You don't say."

"Well, he's on the team. We have our first official member."

"Hopefully all the others are this easy."

Snake emerged from the cabin with a black duffel bag, as well as a case slung over his shoulder that Abernathy at first thought was a rifle. As Snake approached the SUV, he realized it was actually a sword inside a plain black wooden sheath. Other than that, Snake only came with the items on his person.

He climbed into the back seat while Stalker and Abernathy got inside as well. Stalker turned the truck around and headed back for the paved road.

"Good to have you on the team, Snake," Stalker said. "It'll be good working with you again."

In the back seat, Snake made no response.


	5. Chapter Four

Chapter Four

James McCullen Destro XXIV walked down the long, stainless steel hallway, his heavy black boots thumping loudly on the metal floor. He was flanked on each side by a pair of his personal body guards, wearing black uniforms with red and gold trim, Belgian P90 submachine guns resting against their chests. Destro himself carried no gun, he walked casually with his arms at his sides.

He wore a sleek black military uniform with gold trim, like that of his bodyguards, and a dark red tie. Over that he had a leather trenchcoat that hung down to his feet, its bulk making him appear larger and more muscular than he was. Black gloves emerged from the ends of the wide sleeves.

But the most striking part of Destro's outfit was the silver mask he wore. It shined perfectly and seemed to shimmer even in the dim light of the hallway, the reflective surface mirroring his surroundings. It covered his entire face like a hockey mask, with a narrow slit for his mouth and inset holes for his eyes to give him a good range of vision. It was molded to look like a regular human face, with a large chin and full cheeks, although it did not resemble the real face he hid underneath. The mask extended up over his head in a flawless bald curve and covered his ears, concealing almost his entire head. Only the bottom edge of his brown hair at the back of his head was uncovered, and that was hidden by the tall collar of his trenchcoat. Someone meeting with Destro would be unaware of his appearance, his age, or even his race.

Accompanying him down the hall, aside from his personal soldiers, was his second-in-command, the woman named Anastasia, although he only called her by her name when they were in private. In public, she went by the name Baroness. She followed closely behind, dressed in her tight-fitting black leather bodysuit. Her long brown hair waved behind her, and large sunglasses were perched on her face, hiding her eyes. Dual pistols hung from black leather holsters on her hips.

Destro slowed down as they reached the end of the hallway. Standing on guard there were two soldiers wearing dark red uniforms, black boots and large black gloves, cradling small MAC-10 machine pistols in their arms. Their faces were likewise concealed by military styled helmets with plexiglass visors.

One of them typed a code into a number pad in the wall, and a section of the wall slid away, opening a door to the room beyond. Destro continued forward into the large room where his newest business partner awaited him.

The room was longer than it was wide, with a tall arched ceiling and hidden ambient lighting that cast the room in shadows. More armed guards lined each wall, each of them wearing the same crimson uniform. At the end of the room was a raised platform upon which sat a large chair like a throne. On the wall behind it was a large snake head design, a red snake with a circular cobra hood around it, and horizontal lines on each side of the hood. It was the symbol of the Cobra organization.

Seated in the throne was a man wearing a crisp blue uniform with black dress shoes and golden epaulettes hanging from his shoulders. Large golden buttons went down the front of his uniform, and the red Cobra symbol was emblazoned on his breast. One leg was propped up on the other, and he slouched sideways, resting one elbow on the arm of the throne, and his chin sitting in his hand. He wore white gloves, and one finger absentmindedly tapped at his chin.

"Greetings, Lord Destro," the man in the chair said, his voice low and raspy.

Destro stopped in the middle of the room, his team behind him. He nodded politely and licked his lips underneath the mask. "And good day to you, sir."

"I see you've chosen to hide your identity."

"Yes," Destro said. "In my line of work, anonymity can be a blessing. And since your identity is a secret, I felt it prudent to hide mine as well."

"Yes, of course."

"I am not even sure what I may call you."

"I am Cobra Commander," the man said. "You may call me Commander."

Cobra Commander wore a blue helmet similar to a German Stahlhelm, that flared out at the bottom to protect the wearer's neck. Across the front of the helmet was a reflective silver faceplate that completely masked his face. Underneath his uniform he wore a blue turtleneck and had the collar pulled up over his neck and chin. Like Destro, his appearance, age, and race were unknown.

"I've heard nothing but compliments about you," Cobra Commander said. "My contacts in Russia gave particularly glowing reviews of your service."

"I aim to please," Destro said. He glanced over his shoulder at Baroness and nodded. She walked past him and handed a slim manilla folder to the Commander, who plucked it out of her hand, his head tilted down at her body to indicate where he was looking.

"My, my. What lovely employees you have."

Baroness' lips curved up in a grim smile and she returned to Destro's side, swinging her hips as she walked.

Cobra Commander leaned back in his throne and flipped open the folder. Inside was a list of weapons, quantities, prices, and estimated delivery times. Three pages of different weapons of all sizes and calibers, from small pistols to rocket launchers. Destro waited patiently while Cobra Commander perused the documents, watching as his head moved almost imperceptibly back and forth as he read the descriptions and other information. His fingers tapped the edge of the folder, indicating a nervous tick.

"I was informed that you also deal in prototype technology," Cobra Commander said. "Devices and weapons of your own design."

"We have some products that we're working on, yes," Destro said. "But at the moment I'm not prepared to offer them for sale. We're still testing some of our designs."

"Mmm," Cobra Commander hummed, nodding his head.

"We were in the market for some new products just recently," Destro said. "But I'm afraid the deal fell through."

"But you do have your own research and development department, don't you?"

"Yes."

"What about vehicles? Tanks, for instance?"

"I have a contact in the Middle East who can supply small numbers of Russian models, but they take time to arrive here. We provide alterations and weapons upgrades at the requests of the buyer, but that of course costs extra."

"Yes," Cobra Commandersaid. "Of course."

"Do you see anything there that you like?" Destro asked, preferring to keep the conversation on the weapons he was ready to sell.

"I'm looking to arm roughly a thousand men by the end of this year," Cobra Commander said, lowering the folder to look at Destro. His silver facemask mirrored Destro's own silver mask, creating an infinity of reflections between them.

"We can handle that," Destro said confidently.

"Perhaps eight hundred men with standard arms. M-16s or some equivalent. Pistols, grenades, the usual. The other two hundred would be specialized units. Heavy machine guns, missile launchers, flamethrowers, that sort of thing."

"We can supply those as well. We can work out the details later."

"And armor?"

"We don't normally deal in body armor," Destro admitted. "But I know of several dealers that can supply almost any kind of body armor you have in mind."

Cobra Commander regarded him for a few seconds and then nodded. He returned his attention to the weapon list. "So," he said, "Perhaps 300-thousand dollars for eight hundred assault rifles. Another 150-thousand for pistols and grenades. Does that sound about right?"

"It's a fair estimate," Destro said. "As I said, we can work out the details later."

"Missile launchers, perhaps a few mini-guns," Cobra Commander muttered. "I think we can afford to do business here."

"I'm glad to hear it," Destro said. "Our prices are not the cheapest, but we guarantee higher quality."

"No cheap Chinese knock-offs, I would hope."

"None, we only deal with Russian and European manufacturers."

"Excellent."

Cobra Commander lowered the folder and placed it in his lap. He steepled his fingers thoughtfully and seemed to study Destro. His guards stood completely still, and Destro's own guards made no move. For the moment, the two men simply looked at each other.

"You're not an American," Cobra Commander said.

"Not originally," Destro admitted. "I do live here now."

"When I first attempted to contact an arms dealer, I was told that they rarely sell weapons inside their home country, especially here in the United States. When my contacts gave me your information, I expected you to turn me down."

"I choose no sides," Destro said. "And I play no favorites. I provide my services to anyone who can afford them, fairly and equally. You might say it's a bit of a family motto."

"How interesting."

"Are you prepared to do business, then?"

"Oh, yes," Cobra Commander purred. "I think you and I could work very well together."


	6. Chapter Five

Chapter Five

The training facility in southern Maryland was an hour's drive from Washington, D.C. and just across the Potomac River from Virginia. It was a fairly nondescript pair of rectangular buildings made of gray concrete sitting at right angles to each other, with a wide paved courtyard in between them, and surrounded by a tall chain-link fence. There were no signs on the property to indicate who owned it or what went on inside.

Shana O'Hara had somehow expected more. She had been dropped off only two hours before, and given a quick tour by a serious-looking young officer before being assigned her small quarters and given the time of the meeting with the commander of the new unit. The room was small and furnished with a metal desk, chair, and bed frame with a cheap plastic mattress.

All Shana had brought with her was a duffel bag and the clothes on her back. She set the bag on her bed and emptied it out, hanging up her Army uniform in the narrow closet and tossing her black leather jacket on the chair. The officer told her the meeting was casual dress, so she didn't change into her uniform. She was dressed in black sneakers, black cargo pants, and a green t-shirt.

The prospect of joining a new, covert anti-terrorism unit had sounded exciting at the time, but now Shana was having second thoughts. Sometimes, newly formed special units like this were short-lived because of poor planning or poor management from the upper brass. The second-rate accommodations did not fill her with confidence, nor did the cold reception. She began to wonder if the people in charge knew what they were doing.

True to her Irish heritage, Shana had long red hair, which was currently tied behind her head with a black scrunchie. She had bright green eyes and the faintest hint of freckles on the bridge of her nose. They were more noticeable when she got too much sun, and she frequently used a bit of makeup to cover them up.

Men usually underestimated Shana at first, since most men underestimate women in general. Especially in a male-dominated world like the military, Shana had to continually deal with being patronized or marginalized by her male superiors, and being subject to passive-aggressive behavior and borderline sexual harassment by her male teammates. Maybe if she'd looked more butch or less feminine it might have been easier to fit in, but unfortunately, she was cursed with good looks. The last thing most men expected was a beautiful woman who could actually take care of herself.

Shana opened up the mission dossier she'd been given and looked at the code name she had been assigned.

"Scarlett," she muttered. "You've got to be kidding me."

She glanced at her watch and saw it was almost time for the meeting. She tossed the dossier onto the small metal desk with a sigh. She really had no idea what to expect. She didn't even know how many other people were part of the team.

She walked out into the hallway and headed to the double doors leading outside. Just as she reached the doors, she almost ran into a man who came from the adjacent hallway and was also going outside. She backed away apologetically.

"I'm sorry," she said.

"S'okay," the man said. He was easily a foot taller than her, with impossibly wide shoulders and bulging biceps emerging from his t-shirt sleeves. His skin was so dark brown it was almost literally black, and his head was shaved. He looked like an NFL linebacker, only bigger. He wore regular brown and green camouflage cargo pants and a black t-shirt.

"You must be on the team too," he said in a deep voice, sticking out his massive hand. "Lamont Morris, pleased to meet you."

His hand almost completely engulfed Shana's as they shook hands. "I'm Shana O'Hara. You're the first other person I've seen here so far."

"Yeah, I guess they're keepin' this pretty informal." Lamont held the door open for her and Shana walked through, intimidated by how huge Lamont was but not wanting to show it. Despite his size, he seemed to move very smoothly. "Hopefully we'll get to meet the rest of the team now."

"I hope so," Shana said.

The two of them walked outside into the central courtyard between the two buildings. A long shadow swept down from one building, seemingly dividing the courtyard in half. There were three men standing around, two of them looking bored. The third man was the officer that Shana had first met when she arrived. He stood with his hands behind his back, wearing beige khakis and a blue dress shirt. He nodded to Shana and Lamont as they approached.

"Welcome. We're still waiting for a few people," he said.

Shana and Lamont introduced themselves, and the two other men did so as well. The officer, for the moment, remained nameless.

"Name's Lance," the first man said, a gangly-looking man in his early twenties with unruly black hair and an unshaven chin. He wore jeans with black sneakers and a blue shirt with the sleeves rolled up. He smiled at Shana, and she caught him glancing at her chest as soon as they broke eye contact.

The second man kept his hands in his pockets, choosing not to shaking hands. "My name is Eric Freistadt," he said, his voice low. He had short blonde hair and dark eyes. He wore black pants and a short-sleeved white dress shirt.

They didn't have time for much small talk, as three more men quickly arrived and joined their group. Before they could introduce themselves, the officer said, "Okay, looks like everyone is here. Well, all but one, but he'll be here shortly."

From the other building, two men came out of the main doors and approached the group. The officer nodded to them and said something Shana couldn't hear. One of the men, an African American with sharp features, responded and pointed up to the roof of the building behind them, a smile on his face. Shana glanced in the direction he pointed but didn't see anything.

The other man smiled easily and looked at the group. He was an older gentleman, maybe mid-forties, with brown hair edged with gray at the temples. He wore dress shoes, black slacks, and a gray dress shirt.

"It's good to see you all," he greeted them. "I'm General Clayton Abernathy, and I'm your commanding officer."

At the mention of his rank, Shana had the instinctive reflex to salute. Some of the men in the group started to, but Abernathy quickly waved them down. "At ease, soldiers," he chuckled. "Let's not worry about rank for the time being."

He gestured toward the young officer and the black man, and they both came forward. "This is Sergeant Conrad Hauser and Major Lonzo Wilkinson," he said. "But you don't need to remember those names right away. Like all of you, we've been assigned code names as well. So let me introduce you to Duke and Stalker. I'll let Duke here handle the rest of the introductions."

The officer came forward and crossed his arms casually. "Thanks, Hawk," he said with a bit of sarcasm in his voice. He smiled slightly and glanced across the seven faces in front of him, nodding approvingly.

"As you've all surely noticed in your mission papers, you've been given code names as part of your assignment," he said. "This is a covert task force, so all official communications will use only your code names, not your real names. Of course, we're allowed to use our real names among ourselves, but we are to use only our code names when performing a mission. Our identities will be an official secret."

Sergeant Hauser – or Duke, as Shana now thought of him – walked along the line and continued. "Some of you were chosen for this task force based on my personal recommendations. All of you are experts in your chosen fields, all of you have experience with covert operations, and most importantly, all of you have proven yourselves as valuable members of the teams you've worked with. One of the goals of this task force is to foster a high level of teamwork."

Duke stopped in front of Shana and folded his hands behind him. "I've studied all of your dossiers, so I hope you'll permit me to do the introductions. First we have Shana O'Hara, code named Scarlett. Hand-to-hand combat instructor, black belt in two different martial arts. Extensive experience in both covert operations and intelligence gathering, and also qualified as a field radio operator."

Moving on to the next in line, Duke continued. "Lamont Morris, code named Heavy Duty. Heavy machine gunner and advanced weapon specialist. Worked in the prototype division of the Pentagon, at Aberdeen. Qualified to use almost anything in the U.S. arsenal that shoots bullets. Also a first-rate mechanical engineer."

Next in line was Lance, a goofy smile on his face as Duke approached. "Lance Steinberg, code named Clutch. Transportation and vehicle specialist, qualified to drive and repair almost any transport or armored vehicle, except for tanks. Also qualified as a field medic and a field radio operator."

"I'm getting my qualification to drive tanks, by the way," Clutch added.

Duke chuckled and moved over to the next person in line. "And here we have Eric Freistadt, code named Short Fuse. Artillery expert and missile specialist. Were you aware that I was a part of this team when you joined up?"

"No," Short Fuse said quietly. "It was a bit of a surprise, to say the least."

"A good surprise, I hope. You're also a part of the prototype division at Aberdeen, and are qualified to repair and manually operate every missile system in the U.S. military. You also achieved the highest rate of artillery accuracy in the history of the Army. Good to have you aboard, Short Fuse."

"Can I ask a question?"

"Of course."

"Did you come up with my code name?"

Duke shook his head. "Believe it or not, I had nothing to do with choosing the code names. If anyone wishes to change their code name, you can talk to General Hawk about it."

He moved on to the next person in line, a tall man with unruly brown hair, a square chin, and bright blue eyes. He wore jeans and a denim long-sleeved shirt, and was casually chewing on a piece of gum. "Alvin Kibbey, code named Breaker. Communications and computer specialist. Extensive experience with a wide range of computer operating systems and computer devices. Also qualified to operate and repair most radio hardware. Can speak seven languages and is also an expert marksman."

The next soldier was a tall, muscular man with tanned skin and tattoos on his bare arms. He wore black cargo pants and a sleeveless gray shirt. His hair was jet black and long enough to be tied into a ponytail, and he also had a trimmed goatee. "Hector Delgado, code named Shipwreck. Navy SEAL," Duke said. He then paused and shrugged. "I don't know if I can add much to that. SEALs can do just about everything, can't they?"

"I could probably run an aircraft carrier by myself if somebody would give me the chance, Shipwreck said with a broad smile, and Scarlett caught the hint of a Hispanic accent in his voice.

The last man in line was another tall, muscular soldier, larger than Shipwreck but not quite as gigantic as Heavy Duty. He wore camouflage pants and a black t-shirt, and a brown vest with bulging pockets over the shirt. He had a shaved head that glistened in the sun, and sported a mustache. "Ettienne LaFitte, code named Gung-Ho," Duke said. "Survivalist and hostile terrain specialist. Experienced in jungle warfare and guerilla tactics. Qualified as a combat medic, and also skilled in hand-to-hand combat as well as vehicle repair. Speaks five languages, experienced in covert operations and intelligence, and qualified as a heavy machine gunner. Is there anything I'm missing?"

Gung-Ho smiled but it looked like a grimace when he bared his teeth. He crossed his muscular arms and said, "You forgot to mention how good looking I am."

"Of course. You're also very good looking," Duke said.

That got a laugh out of everyone, helping to ease the tension a bit, although the introductions had been fairly informal. Duke took a step past Gung-Ho although there was no one else in line. He rubbed his chin and looked back at General Hawk.

"Looks like we're still missing our last member."

"Up there," Stalker said with a grin, gesturing toward the building behind them.

They all turned to see a figure appear on the roof of the building, looking over the courtyard. He kneeled at the edge of the roof and deftly swung himself over the edge, dropping to the grass below. He landed in a solid crouch and walked casually over to where Duke was standing.

Unlike the others, he was not dressed casually. He was dressed all in black and was also armed. Black boots, black cargo pants, a black-long sleeved shirt, complete with black gloves and even a black ski mask. His eyes were concealed behind a pair of black goggles. Pistols hung from black leather holsters on each hip, and what appeared to be a sword was strapped to his back.

He was nowhere near as tall as Gung-Ho or Heavy Duty, but he came across as much more physically intimidating just by the way he moved. Scarlett watched him carefully, able to tell right away that he had martial arts training. He moved like a tiger hunting a gazelle, with swift, silent, efficient movements.

"And lastly, code name Snake Eyes," Duke said. "Real name is classified. Covert operations and hand-to-hand combat specialist. Infiltration and sabotage expert, advanced weapons specialist, and black belt in three martial arts."

"Dude, is that a sword?" Clutch interrupted.

Snake Eyes turned to look at Clutch but said nothing. He reached over his shoulder to pat the handle of the sword gently, nodding his head.

"Do you have anything to add, Snake Eyes?" Duke asked.

Snake Eyes faced forward and slowly shook his head.

"Somehow, I didn't think so," Duke said.

He turned to the rest of the group. "Although the rest of us are free to use our real names, Snake Eyes' identity is considered classified information. His appearance and his real name are a secret, even to General Hawk."

At the mention of his name, Hawk came forward. "I'm sure most of you have questions about the task force and our mission," he said. "I've been deliberately unclear about the details because I believe very strongly in teamwork and cooperation. I'd like all of you to be able to give your input and share your ideas with me. So before we go any farther with this, I'd like to give you a short tour of our base of operations here."

He smiled at some private joke. "I know it doesn't look like very much from the outside, but this facility is much more than it seems. Please, come with me."


	7. Chapter Six

_Thanks so much to everyone who has left reviews! Sorry I didn't update last week, but I was visiting family in another state for Labor Day weekend. This chapter might seem kind of boring, but I wanted to introduce some of the other characters working for Cobra. I'm already halfway done with the next chapter and should get it updated next weekend. _

Chapter Six

Cobra Commander seated himself at the head of the large conference table and gestured at one of the comfortable leather chairs. Destro and the Baroness took seats while their guards remained standing behind them. The circular table was dark mahogany, polished to a high shine, and a red Cobra emblem was etched into the center.

Two other men were already seated at the table, and Destro recognized the first of them. He nodded in greeting.

"It's good to see you again, Major Bludd."

"Good to see you too, mate," Bludd replied smoothly, leaning back in his chair.

Major Bludd was a burly-looking Australian, sporting both an eye patch and a long handlebar mustache, but in contrast to his gruff appearance, he wore a sleek black suit with a red tie. Bludd's left eye was covered in a black eye patch, although Destro had never learned the story behind it, and his long, greasy black hair was combed straight back. The mustache, his most distinguishing feature, spread down the sides of his mouth almost to his chin.

"I take it you suggested my services to Cobra Commander?" Destro asked.

Bludd nodded. "That's right. I thought you were just the man for the job."

"Well, I appreciate the business."

"You gonna offer me a finder's fee?"

The other man, sitting beside Cobra Commander, wore a bright white military jacket with gold buttons, over a white turtleneck sweater. He was bald, but like Major Bludd, he had a mustache, although his was trimmed short and appeared to be waxed. He wore a pair of wire-frame glasses, and he sat in his chair with his legs crossed, his hands folded in his lap.

Major Bludd grinned yellowing teeth at the Baroness. "Hiya there, darling. It's nice to see you too. Still wearing that leather get-up, huh? I wish my old lady looked half as good as you do."

The Baroness leaned back in her seat and crossed her arms, ignoring him. Destro smiled underneath his mask. He had dealt with Major Bludd on several occasions, and the man seemed intent on annoying the Baroness at every opportunity. Destro was also fairly certain that Bludd was lying about his "old lady," since he doubted any woman would find Bludd appealing enough to marry.

Destro glanced up as another figure appeared in the room, apparently out of nowhere. From behind Cobra Commander, a figure wearing all white emerged from the shadows. He wore white cargo pants, a white hooded sweatshirt with belts strapped across his chest, white fingerless gloves, and a white face mask and hood that revealed only his dark eyes. Two sword handles were visible over his shoulders, also white.

The figure handed a slip of paper to Cobra Commander, who reached up and took it without even looking. He glanced at it and then passed it to the bald man seated next to him. The man read the note and then whispered something Destro could not hear.

"Certainly, Doctor," Cobra Commander said.

The man rose from his seat and quickly left the room. Two Cobra soldiers followed him out. Cobra Commander set his elbows on the table and cleared his throat.

"Well, you already know Major Bludd, of course. For the past few months, he has been working for me. I hope you don't mind it if he takes part in our little meeting."

"Of course not," Destro said.

Cobra Commander hooked a thumb over his shoulder at the figure in white. "This is my personal body guard. We call him Storm Shadow."

"Who was the man that just left?" the Baroness asked. It was the first thing she had said since their arrival.

Cobra Commander waved dismissively. "Another associate of mine. He is not involved in the military side of things. You don't need to worry about him."

Destro decided to take that at face value. However, it made him wonder what the man had been doing there in the first place, if he wasn't involved in their business transaction. He wondered what the note had said, and if it had anything to do with him.

"Let me see what you have, mate," Bludd said. Cobra Commander handed him the folder containing the lists of weapons that Destro was selling.

"How long will it take to ship the weapons?" Cobra Commander asked Destro.

"Perhaps three weeks," Destro said. "Probably less than that. We already have large quantities of small handguns and grenades. Acquiring the assault rifles from our supplier will take a week at most."

"And the special equipment? The missile launchers and such?"

"We have those at our facility as well," Destro said.

Bludd tapped the edge of the folder against the table. "And what about ammo?"

"That depends on how many boxes you want, of course. But I can easily supply over two thousand boxes of ammunition right away."

"How many actual rounds is that?"

"There are twenty per box. Forty-thousand rounds total."

Cobra Commander looked at Bludd. "Is that enough?"

"Sure. Enough for now, anyway," Bludd said, skimming through the list.

"And how much for those?"

"Twenty thousand dollars for two thousand boxes of ammunition," Destro said. "I'll give you a special deal on them, since you're already buying so much."

For the next hour, the four of them discussed and negotiated the sale of weapons. It was primarily a negotiation between Destro and Bludd, who were the most knowledgeable. Destro knew what he wanted to make in profit, and Bludd knew what weapons Cobra would need, and their discussion centered around a deal acceptable to both of them. For the most part, the Baroness stayed out of the discussion, although she paid careful attention to what was said. Cobra Commander, clearly not an expert in the sale of weapons, permitted Bludd to do most of the talking, although he asked questions throughout the discussion.

And the body guard, Storm Shadow, remained silent and impassive the entire time, standing at attention directly behind Cobra Commander's chair.

Destro, despite his long-held tradition of impartiality and professional detachment, could not help but be curious as to Cobra Commander's goals. Arming a force of one thousand soldiers was nothing serious in most parts of the world, but creating a private army right in the middle of the United States was a different matter. He had dealt with numerous organizations over the years, and provided weapons to small mercenary forces and major criminal operations alike, but this was something different. However, Destro kept his thoughts to himself.

"Okay, then," Major Bludd said. "We got ourselves 850 M4 Carbines, 900 Browning .45s, fifty .30 Cals, twenty .50 Cals, and what else? Grenades, ammo, magazines."

"By my count, that's roughly one million," Destro said. "And that does not include the modifications you want on the Carbines."

"Sounds about right," Bludd agreed.

"And we need the heavy ordinance as well," Cobra Commander reminded him.

"Yeah," Bludd muttered, tapping his finger against the table. "We can get the RPGs for 100-grand, correct?"

"Yes, but they are Russian surplus. I cannot verify their quality. I can provide newer models, but I charge new prices. Half a million for a full arsenal of rockets and launchers."

"Let's do that," Cobra Commander said. "No sense in being cheap at this point."

Major Bludd shrugged. "It's your money."

"And I want the Miniguns as well."

"Those are very expensive," Destro said. "Forty-thousand each."

"Plus the additional ammunition," the Baroness added.

When they were all said and done, when all the details had been worked out, the final price was a hair over three million dollars for all the guns and ammunition, as well as costs for transport and other miscellaneous expenses. Cobra would receive enough weapons to fully equip an army of one-thousand troops with assault rifles, pistols, and grenades. It seemed like a low price for so much equipment, but Destro's profit was virtually guaranteed, because the vast majority of the merchandise was surplus that he had originally purchased for almost nothing from Russian arms dealers. He was making pure profit off the ammunition as well as the pistols, which he was honestly glad to be rid of.

Maybe he would offer Major Bludd a finder's fee after all.

As Destro and the Baroness stood up to bid farewell, the door opened and the bald gentleman returned. He walked briskly over to Cobra Commander.

"Commander," he said in a clipped European accent. "Very good news."

He leaned beside Cobra Commander and spoke into his ear. Major Bludd deliberately shuffled the papers in the folder and tapped it loudly against the table to straighten them. He glanced at the Baroness and grinned.

"I'll see you around, honey."

"I doubt it," the Baroness said.

Cobra Commander nodded to the bald man and said, "Yes, of course. Good work." He stood up and whisked him away.

Destro walked around the edge of the table and stuck out his hand. "It's been a pleasure, Commander. I will contact you as soon as the first portion of the payment reaches my account. Your first shipment should arrive by the end of the week."

"Wonderful," Cobra Commander said, shaking his hand firmly. "I fully expect to do business with you again, Lord Destro. I hope this is just the beginning of our work together."

They were led out of the conference room and back to the main hallway they had come from. Two Cobra guards accompanied them to the central elevator. Destro, the Baroness, and their guards got into the elevator and the metal door slid shut.

As the elevator began to rise, the Baroness said quietly, "I don't like them."

"You just don't like Major Bludd, I think."

"They're not telling us everything."

"Well, that's only fair. We're not telling them everything either."

Destro knew full well that the elevators were probably wired with microphones and eavesdropping devices. They were still inside the building, and he suspected Cobra Commander was listening to their conversation at that very moment. The Baroness certainly knew it as well, and her comment was meant as a feint of sorts.

Like most criminal enterprises, arms dealing involved a great deal of hustling. In order to gain the advantage against your customer, you had to pretend to be at a disadvantage. Once they felt they had the upper hand, it was that much easier to deceive them, because they were less likely to expect it.

But you had to be careful not to overdo it. The Baroness wisely said nothing further during their ascent in the elevator. A stray comment here and there would be enough for Cobra Commander to begin to believe he was their intellectual superior, which is exactly what Destro wanted.

If this deal went smoothly, Destro felt confident that he could position himself quite well within Cobra. Three million dollars was just the beginning.


	8. Chapter Seven

Chapter Seven

"Believe it or not, this is a fairly state-of-the-art facility," Hawk said as he led the team down the wide corridor. Doors to each side led to small office areas or supply rooms. Dull gray tile lined the floor, and the ceiling was made up of dusty plastic panels and fluorescent lights. The office rooms were lined with cheap metal filing cabinets layered with dust.

"For the 1950s, maybe," Breaker muttered, glancing at an obsolete computer sitting at one of the work stations.

Scarlett glanced over her shoulder at Snake Eyes and Stalker, who were walking a few paces behind the rest of the group. Stalker was talking animatedly, but he kept his voice low enough that no one else could hear him. Snake Eyes walked with his hands folded serenely behind his back, his footsteps making no sound.

"Here we are," Hawk said, as they approached the elevators. He pressed a button on the wall and the elevator light went on with a chime. "Let's take a trip into the basement, shall we?"

"I can hardly wait," Clutch said, looking around at the rest of the team with a corny grin on his face.

The elevator doors opened to reveal an elevator much larger than what Scarlett had expected. There was easily enough room for all eleven of them to fit inside, with room to spare. It was all bright silver, with a computerized control panel. Hawk pressed a few buttons and the elevator doors slid closed. It began to descend silently.

Scarlett took a quick moment to get a better look at her new teammates, since they were lined up along the walls, all facing the center of the elevator. At first glance, it seemed like a pretty diverse group for such a small team. She wondered if that had been intentional or not. There were a couple of standard old school soldiers, like Gung-Ho and Shipwreck, along with a few younger tech types, like Breaker and Short Fuse. Heavy Duty was the muscle, Snake Eyes was the commando, and Clutch seemed determined to position himself as the comic relief for the team. Scarlett wasn't entirely sure where she fit in.

It was impossible to tell at such an early stage how well the team would actually work together, but so far she felt comfortable with her new teammates.

The elevator stopped and the doors opened up. Hawk smiled and walked out, and the rest of the team followed him into a large circular lobby that split off into four directions. Large lights overhead shined down on a solid gray marble floor. The lobby was surrounded in tall glass windows that gave them a view of the surrounding areas, lined with computer consoles and large projection screens.

Suddenly, Scarlett felt as if she had walked onto the bridge of a spaceship. Everything was gray and silver, and it all shined as if it was brand new. Arched windows all around, huge plasma screens and advanced computer stations. It was the polar opposite of the main floor above them, everything was sleek and contoured instead of dull and blocky.

Hawk looked at their surprised faces and said, "Welcome to the Pit."

He led them forward into the main command center. There were two long rows of computer consoles and three large screens up above them. In the center of the room was a large table with a glass cover. Hawk slid his hand along the edge of the screen and it suddenly came to life under his touch, flashing on like a computer screen. A map of the United States blinked into existence in bright colors, but Scarlett realized that it wasn't a map at all, but a real view of the country by way of satellite imagery.

"Oh, I like that," Breaker said, a wide smile on his face, looking at the rows of computers. "What kind of hardware are we running here?"

"I'm not a computer guy," Hawk admitted. "But I can assure you it's the most advanced system we could get. We're linked in with every military server in the country, as well as law enforcement and even some international agencies. The amount of information we have at our disposal here is really quite impressive."

"What about security?"

"This place is locked up tighter than Fort Knox," Hawk said. "Our electronic security protocols are pretty airtight, or at least that's what the tech guys have told me. I suppose you're the expert in that field, so you'll have to give me your opinion when you have a chance to give the system a test run."

Breaker nodded and looked appreciatively around him. "When will that be?" he asked.

Hawk smiled and gestured to one of the consoles. "Be my guest."

Breaker clapped his hands eagerly and sat down at a one of the stations, immediately hunkering down over the keyboard and typing commands onto the screen. Duke leaned on the edge of the table and watched him as he flashed through windows and screens, accessing the system's primary database.

"Let's give Breaker some time to get acquainted with the system," Hawk said. "There's still lots more to show you."

As they went through the command area, Scarlett could see that the other members of the team were just as amazed as she was. Even Short Fuse, who didn't seem like the most amiable person, was staring around with an impressed smile on his face.

"Alright," Shipwreck said. "I got to ask why they hid this place. I mean, do those buildings upstairs even serve a purpose?"

"It's a cover," Stalker answered from behind them. "This is a covert task force, remember? We want our headquarters to be a little inconspicuous. If anyone comes to investigate what we're doing here, they'll see those buildings and figure we're just some kind of administrative unit."

"Yeah, but it seems like they went to a lot of trouble to keep it hidden like this. I mean, how much did all this cost?"

"It doesn't matter how much it costs," Hawk said. "All that matters is whether or not it was a worthwhile investment. And that is all up to you. If our mission is successful one, then all this was worth it."

"There's only eleven of us here," Gung-Ho added. "But this place looks like it could handle a staff of a hundred or more."

"That's very true," Hawk said with a knowing smile. "Perhaps in time, we'll have that many people on the team. For now, it's just us, though."

Two long mahogany tables were set perpendicular to the wall, with lap tops and folders scattered on it. Hawk leaned against the table and said, "Stalker, if you would be so kind to continue the tour. I would like to work with Gung-Ho and Shipwreck for a little while and get their opinion on some the plans we've laid out."

"Sure thing," Stalker said.

Gung-Ho and Shipwreck took a seat at the table and Hawk directed their attention to the folders on the table. The rest of the group continued through the main command area and passed through a set of large double doors. Stalker held them open politely as everyone walked through.

Down the hall and through another set of doors was the armory. One wall was lined with weapons; everything from large assault rifles like M-16s to smaller automatic weapons like Glock 19s. There were even a few models that Scarlett did not recognize at all.

"Oh, that's my baby," Heavy Duty said, walking toward one of the equipment tables. Sitting there was a huge Minigun attached to a circular metal frame. Heavy Duty walked up to it and patted the long barrels. "This bad boy is the XM250C, the handheld Mini. The first real portable Minigun designed to be used by a single operator."

"You've got to be kidding me," Short Fuse said. "That's not even in production yet. It's still a prototype."

Stalker crossed his arms and gestured at the Minigun. "You'll find that we have access to several prototype weapons here. In fact, we'll do some of the testing on these prototypes by using them in the field."

Heavy Duty lifted the huge weapon assembly and braced the butt of the gun against his hip, swinging the metal frame around his waist. It locked into place in the fixture under the gun, wrapping around his waist like a huge metal belt. He hefted the weapon up and chuckled in his deep voice.

Short Fuse walked over to the other wall, where a series of missile launchers were lined up horizontally. He put his hands on his hips and nodded approvingly. "I think I can work with this," he said.

"Good to hear," Stalker said. "Why don't you two hang out here for a little while and get situated? I'll be back in a bit."

"Sure thing, man," Heavy Duty said, looking around. "I feel right at home already."

Stalker led Clutch and Scarlett down another hallway and up a slight ramp to a large garage area packed with equipment. Mechanic's tools were lined up on pegs on the wall, and there were large tables and racks full of machinery and more tools.

Parked in the garage were two armored jeeps painted gray. Scarlett didn't recognize the model, but they were larger than standard jeeps and smaller than Humvees. One of them was fully enclosed, like a Humvee, but the other had an open back with a .50 caliber machine gun mount attached.

"I guess this is my area, huh?" Clutch said, nodding his head. "These are the new modular MPAVs, aren't they?"

"They certainly are," Stalker said. "You've worked with them before, haven't you?"

"Not directly, but I studied them. They're not officially in use yet."

"They are now," Stalker said, patted Clutch on the shoulder.

Scarlett looked around and realized that Snake Eyes was no longer with them. "Hey," she said. "Where did he go?"

"He disappears sometimes," Stalker said. "Come with me and we'll to catch up with him. Clutch, why don't you stick around here and get yourself acquainted with your new vehicles? The user's manual and design specs are over there on the work bench."

Clutch laughed to himself as he went to the manual, which was the size of a telephone book. "Oh man, this is gonna be great," he said sincerely.

"Let's go downstairs to the training room," Stalker said to Scarlett. "Snake Eyes will be waiting there for us."


	9. Chapter Eight

_I have another new chapter this week, dealing the Cobra again and further developing Cobra Commander, Major Bludd, and especially Mindbender. I think I'll kind of switch back and forth between GI Joe and Cobra a chapter at a time as the plot gets rolling. Hopefully everyone likes the new chapter._

Chapter Eight

Cobra Commander stood and crossed his arms, staring at the large television screen. It showed the black and white view from a security camera in the underground parking structure, where Destro and his entourage were getting into their vehicles. Destro and his gorgeous assistant got into a black limousine while his three armed guards drove in a black van. Cobra Commander continued to watch the screen until the two vehicles drove out of the camera's range of view.

Major Bludd was still sitting at the conference table. Commander's body guard Storm Shadow stood against the wall, hands at his sides, resting on the two long knives sheathed at his hips. The ninja in white watched Bludd carefully, but Cobra Commander was less concerned. He stood so motionless, that a casual observer might have thought he was a mannequin at first.

Cobra Commander walked over to where Major Bludd was sitting. Bludd had one large black boot propped up on the knee of his other leg and was fiddling with a pipe. He glanced up as the Commander approached him, and casually struck a match against the sole of his boot. He put the pipe in his mouth, held the match against it, and puffed smoke.

"Can I trust him?" Cobra Commander asked.

"Depends on what you want from him," Bludd answered. He inhaled deeply and smoke drifted from the edges of his mouth. "Can you trust him to sell you the weapons you need? Of course you can. That's his business, and the man always does business."

Cobra Commander studied Bludd for a moment and then returned to the row of television screens, each of them showing a different view. One of them showed the main entrance hallway, another showed a laboratory room, another the armory. The Commander switched rapidly between the different screens, as if trying to see everything at once.

Bludd set the pipe in his lap and flicked a stray crumb of tobacco from the front of his suit. "Can you trust him to keep this all confidential? Sure. Like I told you, he's a business man. He won't expose you, because he knows you'll just expose him right back."

"You have a way of saying a lot without actually saying anything important," the Commander said. "Now, can I trust him?"

"No," Bludd said. "I don't think you can."

"Why not?"

"Cause once Destro figures out what you've got going on here, he's gonna want a piece of it. The man's almost as greedy as I am, and once he smells a profit, he's gonna do everything he can to gain control of it."

"He'll try to take it from me."

"He might try it. And he's got enough muscle to back him up."

"Yes," the Commander said. "You told me about his personal army."

"He don't have as many men as you do, but right now they're better trained and probably better armed than yours."

"Not for long," the Commander said. "Speaking of that, when are you leaving?"

Bludd shrugged. "Whenever you want. Do you need me here?"

"I don't think so. I want you in my town when the weapons arrive, so you can start the new training at once."

"You're the boss."

Cobra Commander looked over his shoulder at Bludd and regarded him coolly. "Yes, that's right."

He left Bludd in the conference room and walked out into the hollow corridor, his black shoes clicking neatly on the shining floor, the metal walls reflecting his image. Two armed guards in the hall saluted when he passed them and he nodded.

"Hail Cobra," they said in unison.

Cobra Commander continued down the hall and entered a brightly lit room with long rows of hospital beds. About twenty of the beds were occupied, but there were at least that many still empty. The floor was bright white tile, and shining metal pipes crisscrossed the walls and ceiling.

Men wearing plain white shirts and blue pants were lying on the beds, motionless, their arms hooked up to intravenous drips. Each of them had a pair of headphones sitting on his head, Two other men wearing blue uniforms and blue face masks attended them like nurses.

In the front of the room was a large computer display with a series of chemical apparatus set up on a long table with a black marble top. The bald man with the thin glasses was leaning over some of the equipment, muttering to himself in German.

"Mindbender," Cobra Commander prompted.

The man spun around and quickly readjusted the glasses on the bridge of his sharp nose. The bright overhead lights shined off his bald head. "Ah, Commander," he said quickly. "Yes, please come and take a look here."

He hurried over to one of the hospital beds, where a man was lying unconscious. One of the nurses, who had been attending the man, ran off when Mindbender approached. Cobra Commander, his hands calmly folded behind his back, stepped to the foot of the bed and watched as Mindbender fiddled with the computer display hooked up to the man's IV drip.

Mindbender was not his real name, of course, but like so many others in Cobra's line of business, he chose to use an alias. But while many others who worked for Cobra, and other organizations of its kind, already had a criminal record or negative reputation that forced them to seek such employment, Mindbender was an exception. He was a highly-regarded and respected expert in his medical field, which further necessitated the use of an alias. Mindbender, as far as most of his associates knew, was a law-abiding citizen.

"Now, wake up," Mindbender said in his clipped accent.

Slowly, the man on the bed opened his eyes and sleepily regarded Mindbender and Cobra Commander. He was average-looking, with short, light brown hair and brown eyes. He shifted in bed and lifted his hand to his face, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. He cleared his throat and licked his lips, blinking a few times.

"Where am I?' he mumbled.

"You are in a safe place," Mindbender said. "We are taking care of you."

"Oh, okay," the man said.

"What is your name?"

"My name? It's ... uh, my name is Fred."

Mindbender nodded. "Good, tell me about yourself."

Cobra Commander looked down at the man, his arms crossed. Fred looked up and could only see his own reflection in the Commander's silver faceplate.

"I'm ... I'm twenty-eight years old. I'm from Oklahoma. I have a bachelor's degree ..." Fred tried to sit up in bed a little and drowsily rubbed his temple. "I don't remember what the degree is in. I'm not married ..."

"Who do you work for?"

"I work for Cobra."

Mindbender smiled and patted Fred's arm. "Good, good. How do you feel?"

"I feel pretty good, I guess. Just kind of sleepy."

"That's to be expected. Now, tell me what you know about Cobra."

Fred blinked and said nothing for a moment. He furrowed his brow, as if he was confused, and then absentmindedly scratched at the IV drip. "Well, I like working for Cobra," he said. "Our work is very important. Our job is to protect people. Because the government is dangerous, you know? We have to fight for justice. Cobra is dedicated to protecting our rights. Cobra helps us."

"Wonderful," Mindbender said, beaming. He turned a dial on the computer display and pressed a few buttons. "Okay, I can see that you're still tired. We won't bother you anymore. Why don't you go back to sleep?"

Cobra Commander nodded and walked away as Fred drifted back to sleep. Mindbender gently placed the headphones back on Fred's head and then walked away, rubbing his hands together and smiling proudly. He stood beside Cobra Commander as he studied the chemical apparatus.

"It is working perfectly," Mindbender said.

"I'm still not completely convinced, though," the Commander said. "He was half awake, and I could tell that he was confused about what he was saying. Are you sure he'll behave the same way when he's wide awake?"

"Yes, certainly. Once the serum has started the effects, they will only get stronger. Perhaps another day and he will be totally sure of himself."

"What about the reconditioning?"

"It will be unnecessary," Mindbender promised. "Once he is conditioned with this new serum, the effects will be permanent. He will be loyal to you until the day he dies."


	10. Chapter Nine

Chapter Nine

Hawk leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. "Well," he said. "That's the information we have. I wanted you to see it first and give me your expert opinion." He was still seated with Gung-Ho and Shipwreck in the command center area of the Pit, and had just shown them all their information on Cobra, based on the reports written by Duke.

Gung-Ho put the folder down on the table and shook his head slightly. "I don't like it at all. Sounds like it could be some kind of religious cult, but this political stuff is out of my league."

"This is pretty deep," Shipwreck agreed. He leaned forward, his elbows on the desk, and arranged the sheets of paper in front of him. He rubbed his chin and pointed at the security photos from one of Cobra's bank robberies. "Check out the guns they got here."

Gung-Ho slid the picture over and shook his head again. "Yeah, I see that. They aren't playing around, are they? Where the heck did they get MP5s?"

"I think the real question," Hawk said. "Is where did all the money go? They stole somewhere around six million dollars in all those robberies. If they're buying MP5s, who knows what else they have?"

"Jesus," Gung-Ho said. "We could have another Waco on our hands. The FBI has investigated all this, right?"

"Yes, and they've come up empty."

"We should start with the guns," Shipwreck advised. "Check the black market, find out who deals them."

"And get more information on this guy," Gung-Ho said, pointing at the dossier of Sebastian Bludd. "We need his contacts, his friends, anyone he works with."

Hawk nodded. "We're working on that as we speak."

"This lobbyist they killed worries me too," Shipwreck said. "Was he actually working for them? What kind of influence did he have, and what politicians did he work with?"

"His main contact was a Senator from New York," Hawk said. "But we don't really know exactly what deals he worked on."

"Okay," Shipwreck said. "Let's say they spent all their money on weapons. Sounds pretty logical to me. Then they get this lobbyist to push their agenda, but he screws up or maybe he rips them off. I can understand that. But what I don't get are these kidnappings. That doesn't fit with anything else."

"Why kidnap a scientist?" Gung-Ho asked. "And then not ask for a ransom?"

"They all worked in the same general field," Hawk said. "They were all psychologists who specialized in mind-altering treatments."

"Who else works in that field?" Shipwreck asked. "Maybe we should warn them."

"I can get a list of other psychologists doing similar work," Hawk said, writing it down in a notebook in front of him.

"Something else we might want to think about," Shipwreck added. "If they had one lobbyist in Washington, they might have more. I mean, they obviously have some kind of political goal. They might have other lobbyists, or even someone else in politics."

"That's a good point," Hawk said.

As the three of them discussed the information in Duke's reports and came up with a plan of action for tracking down Cobra, Heavy Duty and Short Fuse were inspecting their gear in the armory. Clutch was in the armory as well, seated atop a work table with the MPAV manual in his lap. He scratched at his unshaven chin and turned the page.

Heavy Duty leaned against another table and smiled at the arsenal he now had at his disposal. His primary weapon of choice was a plain M240 machine gun, but he liked some of the new designs the military had come up with in recent years, such as the XM312. Although he had a feeling that he would become quite attached to the XM250C Minigun that he had looked at earlier.

"Look at this thing," Short Fuse said, picking up a rocket launcher.

"Looks like a Javelin," Heavy Duty said, walking over to him. The rocket launcher in Short Fuse's arms was a long green tube like a standard rocket launcher, but it had a control console built into it, with a viewfinder and small view screen that the user looked through.

Short Fuse set the launcher on a table. "This is the Jav2," he explained. "Same basic interface as the Javelin. Reads the heat signature of the target. Fire it and forget about it. But it's twenty pounds lighter and the rockets cost half as much. Plus the targeting system is even more precise. You can aim this thing at a bird and it'll lock on target."

"Don't you need special training just to use it?"

"For the Javelin, you do. But the Jav2 will be standard equipment in a couple years."

Heavy Duty put his hands on his hips and shook his head in wonder. "I can't believe we get to play with toys like this, man."

"Tell me about it," Short Fuse said. "When I saw Hauser, I figured I made a mistake. But this might turn out okay after all."

"You're talking about the blonde guy, right? Duke? I wanted to ask you what you meant earlier, when you asked him if he chose your code name. You know him, huh?"

Short Fuse nodded. "He was the Staff Sergeant of my squad when I was stationed in North Carolina a couple years ago. I never liked him all that much."

"Why not? He ain't a nice guy?"

"It isn't that. He's just a fake. He's a yes man, always on the look out for a new promotion or some way to butter up his superiors. I swear I wanted to knock that cocky smile right off his face a few times."

Heavy Duty chuckled deeply. "I know what you mean, man. Is that why you asked about the code name?"

"Well, the other guys in the squad used to call me Snap. Cause they said that it only took one little thing to make me snap. I guess I got a reputation for having a short temper." At that, he laughed a bit and shrugged innocently. "I can't imagine why. I thought Hauser gave me the code name because of that."

"You'll have to ask the boss about it."

"No, I'll just let it slide for now. I'll put up with the silly nickname if I get to work with brand new weapons like this."

"You got that right," Heavy Duty said. And then, he looked up at Clutch. "What about you, man? What kind of vehicle they got for you?"

Clutch grinned and held up the huge instruction manual. "They have a couple of MPAVs in the garage back there. Those things are sweet," he said. "I'm just checking out the specs right now. It's like they took a Hummer and a Lexus and just mashed them together. It's the first attack luxury vehicle."

Heavy Duty laughed. "Gonna take it for a spin later?"

"You bet," Clutch said with a smirk. "Maybe I'll ask that cute redhead to go for a ride with me."

"Careful man, she knows karate," Short Fuse said.

Meanwhile, down in the next level of the Pit, Scarlett and Stalker were walking down the wide corridor, heading toward the training area. They passed by the bunks and personal quarters, as well as more computer stations and conference areas.

"This place is really amazing," Scarlett said.

"Well, hopefully, this is just the beginning," Stalker said. "If this task force is successful, we'll have access to even more advanced equipment, and be able to recruit more members. The Pentagon has some serious long-term plans for this team."

"I'm happy to be a part of it."

They continued down the corridor and stopped at the training area. To the right of the hallway was a huge area with racks of machine guns on the wall, and a large shooting gallery, currently dark and unused. There were also computer simulator consoles and more training equipment. To the left, Scarlett could see a large, brightly-lit square room with weight benches and treadmills and other exercise equipment on one side, as well as punching bags and practice dummies. Stalker led her forward and merely pointed into the middle of the large room, where there was a large blue practice mat.

Snake Eyes stood in the middle of the mat, arms at his sides. He had taken off his belt with the holsters and pistols, but was still dressed in all black, complete with face mask and goggles. He did not seem to notice anyone watching him.

Scarlett watched as Snake Eyes brought his arm up to grab the handle of the katana sword strapped to his back, and pulled it free of its sheath in one fluid movement. He lunged forward and swung the blade in a low arc, slicing through the air just inches above the mat. He then spun around, swinging the sword back up, jabbing forward, then turning to the side and slicing straight down. The blade whistled through the air, but Snake Eyes himself was completely silent. His movements were fast, graceful, and incredibly lethal.

He swung the blade in a straight sideways arc and then used his momentum to spin around and leap into the air, executing a perfect roundhouse kick in midair before landing on the mat and stabbing the sword at his invisible opponent. The blade became a blur as he slashed to the left and right, and then swung his leg up in a high kick, finishing the move with another swing of the blade straight down. Even with all the force he put into the strike, he was in complete control, and the tip of the blade stopped an inch above the mat without touching it.

It was a practiced series of movements, but with Snake Eyes, it was more like a dance. He moved quickly and effortlessly, his blade cutting through the air, his body in continuous motion, without a single awkward or uncertain movement. It was like watching a performance artist telling a story without using words.

"It's called a _kata_," Stalker said quietly. "But I guess you already know that."

"Yes," Scarlett replied, watching in amazement. "But sword _kata _are totally different from other martial arts. I've never seen someone mix the two."

Snake Eyes lashed out with the blade before turning sideways and kicking out with his leg in a swing kick. He continued to turn in a circle, slashing with the blade through the empty air, and then jumping up into another roundhouse. He landed on the mat in a crouch, down on one knee, holding the sword straight out at his side.

"Alright, Snake" Stalker said. "You can stop pretending that you don't know we're here. I know you heard us coming."

Snake Eyes stood up and returned his sword to the sheath at his back. He was breathing heavy, his chest rising and falling rapidly, but he said nothing. He nodded at Stalker and stepped forward.

"I wanted to personally introduce the two of you," Stalker explained. "Because you'll be working together for the most part. You're both covert operatives and skilled martial artists, and I hope that you can work together well as a pair."

"Well, it's a pleasure to be working with you," Scarlett said, sticking out her hand.

Snake Eyes nodded and shook her hand firmly.

"You are perfectly qualified to be on this team, Scarlett," Stalker said. "But you also have one special skill that many of the other applicants did not, which is one of the reasons you were selected. You can speak sign language."

Snake Eyes motioned with his hands. "_I'm happy to be working with you as well_," he signalled.

Stalker smiled at the surprised expression on Scarlett's face. "Snake Eyes was wounded in battle several years ago," he explained. "and his vocal chords are very weak. He is able to speak if he has to, but for the most part, Snake doesn't talk at all. He uses sign language when he has something important to say."

"Okay," Scarlett said understandingly. "Duke said that your real name and your appearance are classified. So you don't ever remove your mask, do you?" she asked.

Snake Eyes shook his head. "_No, I'm sorry. I'm not very good looking anyway_," he signalled.

Scarlett laughed softly. "Okay, if you say so."

But she couldn't help but wonder what Snake Eyes looked like under the mask. He was in supreme physical condition, athletic and muscular, clearly a gifted martial artist, and had a very intense physical presence about him. Scarlett respected that, and his quiet nature made him even more interesting. Snake Eyes was a perfect example of the strong, silent type.

She found that she couldn't wait to work more personally with him.


	11. Chapter Ten

Chapter Ten

Storm Shadow was alone. His ten-foot-by-ten-foot room was decorated with simple colored wall hangings and a soft floor mat made from straw. He kneeled barefoot, dressed only in loose fitting white pants tied with a red belt. His body was thin and muscular, his medium tan skin and jet black hair giving away his Japanese ancestry. His face was grim and serious, with strong cheekbones and a firm jaw. Traces of old scars could be seen trailing down his neck and across his bare chest. More faint scars crisscrossed his back and torso, and one large mangled scar decorated his right shoulder.

He got to his feet and walked to the small sink and wash basin in the room. He calmly, methodically washed his hands, and then splashed some cold water on his face. His hands gripped the edge of the sink and he leaned forward, taking deep breaths. Filling a small paper cup with water, he used it to rinse out his mouth and then spit into the sink.

Even with his eyes closed, he could sense the red light on the wall beginning to flash. He was needed. It was time to become the warrior again.

He quickly dressed in white shoes, white pants, and a white long-sleeved shirt. He pulled on white fingerless gloves and then donned a long white trenchcoat. Finally, he slipped on his white hood with the facemask across his nose and mouth. It was like a transformation, and the mask served a purpose. His dark eyes peered out, cold and merciless.

He slid wakizashi blades into identical sheaths sewn into the sides of his pants, which were hidden by the trenchcoat, and slid tanto blades into similar sheaths around his calves. He fastened a pair of belts around his chest that held on the two long sheaths at his back, which held katana swords with white handles and gold trim.

He left his small room and stalked the corridor, heading to the main conference room. His soft shoes made no sound on the metal floor, and the only noise was the soft swishing noise of his trenchcoat trailing behind him.

The guards in the hall did not meet his eyes, and simply opened doors for him when he approached. To them, he was a ghost in white, the silent protector of their leader, Cobra Commander.

Inside the conference room, Cobra Commander was waiting with the scientist known as Mindbender. The Commander was seated at the table, casually leaning back with one leg propped up on the other, his hands folded in his lap. He wore a black military uniform with silver trim, and with a large Cobra symbol on his chest. He wore a black helmet, and as always, his face was covered in a reflective silver faceplate.

"You're late," he said simply, not looking up.

Storm Shadow said nothing, taking his position behind the Commander, his hands at his sides, just barely touching the handles to his wakizashis.

Mindbender sat at the table as well, and paid him no mind, as usual. The scientist was so single-minded and focused on his work that he barely noticed anything else, Storm Shadow noted. His presence in the room was tolerated because of his expertise, but Storm Shadow did not care for him. He was a coward and a weakling in the ninja's eyes. Thankfully, the mercenary known as Major Bludd had been sent away already, so he was not here for this meeting. Unlike the scientist, the mercenary was untrustworthy and dangerous, and Storm Shadow barely tolerated his presence.

The conference table had been set up with computer screens arranged in a semi-circle, all of them facing Cobra Commander. Another computer console was set up away from the table, and a Cobra computer technician was seated there, awaiting the Commander's orders.

Cobra Commander casually pressed a button on the tabletop, and the computer screens, ten of them in all, flickered to life.

Faces appeared in six of the screens, while the others remained blank. The Commander studied the six faces, his own expression hidden behind his mask. But by his posture, Storm Shadow could tell that he was disappointed that only six of his associates decided to attend this video meeting. His own image was being recorded and played back for each of the associates, although they could not see the faces of the other men that the Commander was meeting with.

"Thank you for meeting me," he said, his voice low. "I think you all know why I've asked you to see me today."

Some of the men on the computer screens nodded slightly. All six of them were men, three of them Caucasian, two Middle-Eastern, and one Asian.

"Are there any questions before we proceed?"

One of the Caucasian men said, "What is the status of your project? I have not received the update you promised."

"If you would be so kind," the Commander said. "Please direct your attention to your second screen." He pointed at the technician, who quickly activated a video upload.

All six of the men focused their attention off screen. Cobra Commander let them view the video uninterrupted for a few moments as it was downloaded to each of them individually.

"Our serum has completely affected eighty percent of our test subjects," he said. "The other twenty percent are not fully affected yet, but we're confident that in another day or two it will be for them as well. The few minor delays we've seen are mainly a result of our attempts to perfect the amounts used for each subject."

"Have their been any casualties?" the Asian man asked.

"None," Cobra Commander said. "And no regression of any kind. Once the serum takes hold, it just becomes a matter of time. But there is the possibility that a subject could become unreliable if the serum is not applied precisely. It is a rather exact science."

"How unreliable?"

"The subjects could be rendered mentally unstable."

"I did not think your serum would be that dangerous."

"I have told you all several times that this project involved significant risk. The human mind is a very fragile thing. But as you can see in the video, if all precautions are taken and the serum is applied with care, the results are extraordinary."

"Yes," the Asian man said, nodding.

Cobra Commander swiveled his chair a little, his hands folded in his lap. "Are there any other questions, now that you have seen our progress?"

"How much of the serum do you have right now?" one of the Caucasian men asked.

Mindbender, out of range of the camera, held up four fingers.

"Enough for four shipments," the Commander said. "Each shipment would include enough serum for roughly one hundred subjects."

"You can increase production, correct?"

"Yes. Since our own experimentation is mostly complete, the majority of what we make can now be packaged for shipment."

"How long will it take to produce ten more shipments?"

Mindbender thought for a moment, and then mouthed out the words, "One month."

"Two months," Cobra Commander said, and the man seemed satisfied. "Do you have any other questions? Do not hesitate to ask."

There were none, so the Commander leaned forward and placed his elbows on the desk. "In that case, I think it is time for you to enter your final payment. You've already been given the account numbers, so please begin whenever you are ready."

The technician opened up several windows on his screen and one after one, they all began to flash green, as the transfers were initiated. It took seconds for each one to complete, and the technician gave the Commander a thumbs-up when they were all done. In less than a minute, the Cobra organization was twenty million dollars richer.

"Thank you," Cobra Commander said. "I will contact you again with an update next week at this time."

The computer screens blipped out as the men disconnected. When they were all gone, the Commander shut all the monitors off and leaned back in his chair once more. "Transfer the money to our other accounts," he ordered.

"Why did you tell them two months?" Mindbender asked. "It should not take longer than a month to produce that much serum."

Cobra Commander did not look at him, he stayed focused on the blank screens. "I could have said six months and they would have agreed," he said. "There is no need to rush production, I want you to continue working with the subjects."

"You don't need to worry," Mindbender assured him. "Everything is working perfectly."

"When Major Bludd has the subjects and begins their training, that's when I'll be satisfied that the serum works as you promised. Until then, you will continue to refine the process. Once all the subjects are handed over to Bludd, then you'll get your money."

Mindbender looked shocked. "I've told you I'm not in this for money," he said, offended. "I am creating a whole new field of scientific knowledge. The money is nothing to me."

"Of course not," Cobra Commander said. "You just want the credit, don't you?"

Mindbender stood up and straightened his white jacket. "Yes, because without me, there would be no serum. When you reveal your army to the world, it will be the vindication of my entire life's work. No one will ever doubt my theories again."

"Why don't you get back to work?"

"Gladly," Mindbender snapped, and left the conference room.

After Mindbender left, the Commander told the computer technician to leave as well, and soon he and Storm Shadow were alone in the room. He swiveled the chair around to face the ninja in white.

"It's so hard to find real loyalty," he said. "Major Bludd is only working for me because I pay him. The good doctor only works for me because I'm letting him perform the experiments that no one else will let him perform. And you, of course, keep your reasons to yourself."

"I only do as I am told," Storm Shadow said.

"So you do," the Commander agreed. "But that's all part of your training, isn't it? You ninja have a very peculiar sense of honor."

"You are confusing ninjas with the samurai," Storm Shadow corrected him. "Ninjas do not have a code of honor."

"Is that so? I guess that only proves my point." Cobra Commander laughed to himself, his raspy voice echoing off the featureless metal walls. He got up and smoothed out the wrinkles on his black uniform, still chuckling softly at his private joke.

"Loyalty is the key," he said when he had collected himself. He pointed at Storm Shadow, emphasizing the word. "It is so hard to find real loyalty in this world. Even the strongest bonds are broken on a whim."

He walked out of the conference room and Storm Shadow followed. As they walked, Cobra Commander continued. "Once upon a time, warriors gave oaths of allegiance to their kings, and oaths like that were impossible to break. Those soldiers would live and die for that oath, even if the time came when they no longer agreed with their king. Even if they hated their leader, they would remain loyal. To break their vow, to betray those they had sworn loyalty to, was against their very nature. You don't see that sort of selfless loyalty anymore."

They entered one of the rooms where Mindbender's test subjects lay unconscious on hospital beds, although these men had passed their initial phase and no longer required the headphones or other specific care. Forty men rested in four rows of beds.

Cobra Commander gestured to them. "Until now, of course. These men are my warriors and I'm their king." He turned to look at Storm Shadow. "I made these men loyal. Now I can give others the ability to instill loyalty in their own soldiers. I'm just trying to retrieve what we've lost in the past five hundred years."

Storm Shadow nodded politely, but kept his opinions to himself. He didn't need Cobra Commander to lecture him on the value of loyalty. He knew all about loyalty and betrayal.


	12. Chapter Eleven

_Here is the new chapter this week. I also added a bit more to the end of the last chapter._

Chapter Eleven

"This is Hawk. Everyone, please report to the command center. Everyone, please report to the command center."

Hawk set down the intercom speaker and crossed his arms, looking up at the large computer screens on the wall. Beside him, Breaker was busy clicking away on his computer, and on the screens above, windows popped open and images came into view.

Duke leaned against the console, shaking his head in wonder. "You know, if I'd had access to all this a few weeks ago, it would have made my job a whole lot easier."

"Yeah, but it wouldn't have been half as fun," Hawk said.

An image popped up on one of the screens, a grainy image taken from a security camera. It expanded to fill the screen, but the resolution was very low.

"That's the best I can do for now," Breaker said with a shrug. "I can keep digging later, but I don't want to trip any security."

"That's fine," Hawk said. "It's fine for now."

Heavy Duty, Short Fuse, and Clutch all came from the armory, talking to each other as they came in from the hallway. Hawk greeted them and waited for the rest of the team. About a minute later, Snake Eyes, Scarlett, and Stalker all arrived as well. The group stood around the large table with the built-in computer screen, while the screens up on the walls all showed different windows and satellite images.

"Okay," Hawk said. "Hopefully all of you are getting accustomed to this place, but we have some information on our mission. Breaker here has been kind enough to hack into a Russian agency's server and get some images for us."

Breaker leaned back and blew a bubble. It popped with a snap and he began chewing on the gum again. "Hey man, I didn't say it was hacking. I was just snooping around."

"What are we looking at?" Stalker asked, gesturing up at the screen.

"This," Hawk said, pointing, "is a security camera image from a parking garage in Moscow, taken about two years ago. It is currently the closest thing we have to a lead."

The image showed a row of cars in the underground garage, and a group of people standing in the aisle next to a pair of large vans. It seemed to be some sort of meeting, as the group was split in half, one side facing the other. Two of the men on one side were carrying machine guns.

"According to their records, this is a picture of a Russian arms dealer and one of his foreign associates. The Russian is the one with the beard, on the left," Hawk said.

Stalker stepped forward and looked closely at the screen. "Is that other guy wearing a mask or something?"

"It looks like he is, but the woman next to him is the one we're interested in. The Russians have a dossier on her."

Breaker clicked away and her file popped up, featuring a different grainy image and a list of information. "It says her name is Anastasia, but they don't have a last name listed," Breaker said, reading off the screen. "Formerly a German spy, also has ties to the old KGB, which is why they know who she is."

"Why is she important?" Stalker asked.

"Because she's currently a resident of the United States," Hawk said. "Can you bring up those other pictures, Breaker?"

More images appeared on the screen, these ones in color and with high resolution. They showed the front of a large office building, and a tall brunette wearing a black business suit, flanked on both sides by body guards, walking from the front door to a waiting limousine.

"The CIA took these pictures six months ago in New York," Hawk said. "It's the same woman. She's apparently found employment working for M.A.R.S., a company some of you probably have heard of."

"The weapons manufacturer?" Short Fuse said. "They're a high-tech arms company. I think they even have some defense contracts with the Pentagon."

"They do," Hawk said.

"And this woman, who has ties to Russian arms dealers, is working for them," Duke explained. "Sounds pretty sneaky to me. And those machine guns that the bank robbers carried in the later robberies? M.A.R.S. got a contract to ship them less than a year before those robberies took place."

"You think M.A.R.S. sold them the weapons?" Stalker asked.

"No, I think this woman sold them," Duke said.

Hawk nodded approvingly. "It's worth investigating. If Cobra is looking to buy weapons, and it's seems likely that they are, then having an agent working within a major manufacturer would be a huge advantage. We need to find out who this woman is, and who she really works for."

"And if she's single," Clutch muttered. Scarlett laughed before she could catch herself, and then cleared her throat, trying to hide it.

Stalker raised his eyebrows and looked over at Duke. "Not bad," he said. "That's excellent work on such short notice."

"Don't give me the credit," Duke said. "Breaker found all this stuff. It's like he just pulled it right out of thin air."

"So you want to do some surveillance?" Stalker asked Hawk.

"As soon as possible. I'd like to get some intel on M.A.R.S. first, and then we can go from there."

Stalker looked over at Snake Eyes and Scarlett. "Looks like it's time to go to work," he said with a smile.

"That's not all," Hawk said. "We've also have the names of some other scientists and psychologists working in the same field as the scientists who were kidnapped."

"There's a research facility in New York doing work right along the same lines," Duke said. "A man named Mikhail Bogdanovich is the facility director. If anyone can tell us what kind of research they're doing, he can. He's considered an expert in his field."

"I'd like to go to New York and meet with Dr. Bogdanovich," Hawk said. "I'd like a few of you to come with me."

"I'll come," Duke said. "While we're in New York, maybe we can follow some other leads as well."

Shipwreck came forward. "I'd like to come as well, sir."

"You're welcome to," Hawk said.

"Is there anything else you want us to focus on?" Stalker asked. "I'm going to help Scarlett and Snake get ready. What about the rest of the team?"

"I'll keep digging for information," Breaker said. "We have access to a lot of European files we haven't even checked yet."

"I'll help with that," Gung-Ho said, stepping over to the computer. "I need some practice working with the computer system here anyway."

Hawk looked over at Heavy Duty, Short Fuse, and Clutch. "What about the rest of you? Are you still checking out all your new equipment? You probably still have a lot of work to do."

"Yes, sir," Short Fuse said. "I think we have enough to keep us busy for now."

"When will we get to actually test out these weapons?" Heavy Duty asked. "We have a firing range here, correct?"

Hawk nodded and pointed over to Stalker. "There's the man to talk to. He can show you where everything is. There is a fairly advanced weapons testing area down in the second level."

"Come find me in about an hour," Stalker said. "I have some work to do first, and then I can show you the firing range."

When the meeting ended, everyone split up and went back to what they were doing. Breaker, Duke, Shipwreck, and Gung-Ho stayed in the computer center, working on the investigation. Hawk went up to his office to make some phone calls and prepare for the short trip to New York. He also scheduled a plane to take Scarlett and Snake Eyes on their surveillance mission.

Heavy Duty, Short Fuse, and Clutch all returned to the armory and went back to work. Clutch was still studying the MPAV manual, while Heavy Duty and Short Fuse went though the vast array of weapons at their disposal.

Stalker went back downstairs with Snake Eyes and Scarlett.

"Okay," he said, "Looks like you'll be going to work right away. I think I may have some new equipment for you that you might find useful."

They went past the training area to a row of lockers and upright equipment cases. Stalker flipped open the catch and opened a large double locker packed with outfits hanging on pegs. They were black with dark gray trim, and had no zippers or other fasteners.

Stalker handed a long-sleeved shirt and pants to Scarlett and she rubbed the fabric. "What are these made out of?" she asked.

"It's a special new material, kind of like nylon," Stalker said, pulling out another set for Snake Eyes. "They developed it for wet suits and aquatic gear, but it's also pretty useful for any kind of stealth uniform."

"It's so slippery," Scarlett said. When she rubbed the outside of the cloth, her fingers seemed to slide right off, and she could not grip it firmly.

"That's the point. Anyone you come up against is gonna have a hard time landing a solid punch, and he won't be able to grab you at all. It's also waterproof, of course, as well as thermal and cut resistant. I think you will find it very useful."

As Snake Eyes took his shirt and pants, Stalker smiled and went over to one of the other lockers. "And I have something else for you, Snake. Had it made specially for you."

He took out a black ski mask made from the same material as the outfit, as well as a reflective black rectangular visor. Snake Eyes took them with a nod and went off to change.

"Changing rooms are that way," Stalker said to Scarlett. "Just follow Snake."

When Snake Eyes came back, he was dressed in the featureless black outfit, although he still wore same boots and gloves. The pants were slightly loose, but the long-sleeved shirt fit snugly against his muscled torso and arms. The new black visor was completely reflective, hiding his eyes, but it gave him a much better range of vision than the goggles he wore before.

"You look great," Stalker said with a grin, handing Snake Eyes a utility belt and shoulder strap for attached equipment such as grenades. Snake Eyes snapped the belt around his waist and slung the shoulder strap on, hooking it to the belt. He carefully tugged on his sleeves, making sure his gloves covered the cuff and that there was no skin showing. "So what do you think?"

Snake held his hand out flat and then wobbled it back and forth.

"You'll be fine," Stalker said, chuckling. "That new visor of yours is a piece of work too, its got a shading adjuster and a digital readout. I think it will come in very handy."

Scarlett came out of the changing area in her new outfit, pulling a bit on the bottom of the shirt. Like Snake Eyes' outfit, the pants were fairly loose but the shirt was a tighter fit. She pulled the bottom of the shirt down farther, trying to keep it from riding up. If she lifted her arms above her head, the shirt would ride up and expose her stomach. "I think this might be a size too small," she said with a frown.

"Here," Stalker said, handing her a belt. "Tuck the shirt under the pants and this belt should keep everything in place. It's designed to be a bit tight. The material is stretchy enough to give you a full range of motion."

As Scarlett fastened the belt, Duke showed up in the training area. He walked over to the group and took a quick look at Scarlett and Snake Eyes, although his eyes remained on Scarlett for a bit longer. He handed Stalker some papers.

"Hawk already got confirmation for their transport. We'll have a cargo plane ready tonight at Andrews Air Force Base. You'll fly out to the M.A.R.S. facility in New York and parachute to the location under cover of darkness."

"What about support?" Scarlett asked.

"Don't worry, you won't be alone," Duke assured them. "Clutch and Stalker will serve as support. We're sending one of the MPAVs along with you. After you jump, the plane will circle around and drop the jeep with Clutch and Stalker right outside the facility. You'll all be equipped with GPS units. Once you've taken a look around and gotten whatever surveillance you can, you'll meet up with the others right outside."

"I'm sure it will be just as easy as that," Stalker said sarcastically.

"You shouldn't encounter much resistance," Duke said. "There will certainly be some security guards, but nothing you can't handle. Sneak in, take a look around, and then sneak out again."

Snake Eyes cracked his knuckles and nodded to himself.


	13. Chapter Twelve

_Okay, this is the complete version of this chapter. It turned out a bit longer than I expected, that's why I didn't update it sooner. I also have the next chapter updated as well, I hope you enjoy them._

Chapter Twelve

Scarlett tightened the straps around her shoulders and waist and stood up, holding onto a handle above the row of seats to steady herself. The C-17 Globemaster transport aircraft soared above the state of New York, flying low as it approached their destination. Scarlett looked across the crowded interior of the plane and felt a surge of anticipation, a familiar twist in her stomach and increased heartbeat.

A loaded MPAV armored jeep was clamped down in the place, its wheels locked to keep it steady during takeoff. A large machine gun was attached to the roof, and the driver, Clutch, was busy testing the systems. He sat in the driver's seat with the door open and one leg dangling out, punching in commands on a small laptop. Stalker was at the front of the cargo area, speaking into his helmet's microphone, probably talking to the pilot to determine their point of arrival. He and Clutch were both dressed in gray, unmarked military fatigues, and Stalker had an M-16 slung over his shoulder.

Scarlett turned her head to see Snake Eyes standing easily in the middle of the aisle, arms crossed, watching out one of the small windows. Even with the minor turbulence and tremble of the aircraft, Snake Eyes had impeccable balance, and never had to touch the wall to steady himself, as Scarlett did. She guessed that he could walk across a floor covered in marbles without falling over.

Like her, he was dressed in his new black outfit, complete with shoulder straps and web gear. A line of smoke grenades and other equipment was hooked to his belts, and as always, his sword was strapped to a sheath across his back. Two Glock 18 automatics were resting in holsters at his thighs.

Scarlett had similar web gear for her outfit, with attached items like an infra-red detector and a set of tools for hacking into computer systems. She also had special black forearm braces. She had a Glock in a holster as well, but she didn't expect to use it.

She pulled a black plastic case from underneath her seat and flipped it open. Black foam had been cut out to conform to the shape of the items inside. There was a small black composite stock, an advanced laser scope, and a flexible crossbar. Scarlett pulled out the pieces and snapped them together with practiced ease. The stock clicked firmly into the crossbar, and she pulled back the strong cord until it snapped into place on the trigger mechanism. Then she attached the scope. In her hands was a handheld miniature crossbow.

As she took out her set of six-inch-long bolts, Snake Eyes walked over to her and watched interestedly.

"_Is that a crossbow?_" he signed.

"Yes," she answered with a smile.

"_Isn't that a strange weapon to use?_"

"Is this coming from the guy with a katana strapped to his back?"

Snake Eyes shrugged. "_You have a point_."

"That's not all I have," Scarlett said. She pulled back the magnetic strap over her forearm brace to expose the set of six-sided _shuriken _blades held in place there. "You're not the only one who can use ninja weapons."

"_Not bad_," Snake Eyes conceded.

Stalker came over to them. "Alright, it's go time," he said. "Snake, hit the switch. We'll be over the landing site in thirty seconds."

Snake Eyes activated the rear doors and they eased downward, letting in a rush of air that drowned out any other sounds. Scarlett's red hair whipped behind her head as she approached the edge of the door, holding onto the side handles for support. With her other hand, she put on the small ear communicator that Stalker handed her. It was little more than an ear bud connected to a tiny wire microphone that hooked over her ear and rested against her cheek. She also put on a pair of clear plastic goggles.

She looked out across the night sky to the dark countryside below. A few scattered lights glowed lonely in the darkness, and she could make out a nearby highway by the line of lights. Other than that, the land below them was utterly dark from this height.

Stalker came up to her and put his hand on her arm. "We'll be half a mile west of the facility," he shouted over the noise. "Follow the GPS on your watch and keep radio silence unless it's an emergency. Do not engage if you can help it."

"Gotcha," Scarlett said, giving a thumbs up.

"Alright, good luck."

Snake Eyes glanced at her and she could almost see him smile, by the way his facemask twisted a bit around his mouth. And then, with one step, he hopped out into the darkness. Scarlett smiled to herself and followed him out, jumping from the plane.

Skydiving at night is very different than during the day. You can't see anything except the lights in the distance, and you're completely surrounded in penetrating darkness. Scarlett felt as if she was falling through outer space, and the lights below were the stars shining around her.

Snake Eyes was invisible in his black outfit, so Scarlett had no idea where he was. She allowed herself to fall for another few seconds, looking at her watch to check her GPS position. She adjusted her freefall, trying to aim more in the direction of the target. She had no way to tell where it was on the dark landscape below her, so she had to rely on the GPS.

She pulled her cord and her parachute deployed with a rush, the impact of the straps across her chest almost knocking the wind out of her. The sky hurtling past her came to an abrupt halt, and she gently floated downward, pulling on the directional cords to aim her descent.

Her parachute was black, like the rest of her outfit, and she would be hard to see clearly from below. Someone watching the sky very carefully would see her once she got closer to the ground, but she didn't expect anyone to be looking. Any security guards would have their attention focused on the land around the facility, not on the sky above it.

Checking the GPS again, she pulled hard to the right, and floated down toward a large property marked by floodlights on the perimeter. According to the GPS, that was her target, so she aimed directly for the roof of the large building right in the center of the compound. As she got closer, more details came into view, one detail being the figure already on the roof.

Scarlett aimed her descent perfectly, coming down in between two tall satellite dishes with tall antennas, and touched down on the roof as gracefully as a ballet dancer landing a pirouette. She immediately backpedaled as her parachute fluttered to the rooftop in front of her. As the parachute flattened out, she pulled on the cords and wrapped as much of the parachute up as possible. One edge of the parachute caught on the antenna tower but she yanked it free.

It took a few minutes as she kneeled down and quickly folded the parachute up as small as she could, wrapping it in its cords until it was a tight ball of cloth. She stuffed the oversize bundle back into her parachute pack and zipped it closed. They could not leave evidence of their arrival behind.

Snake Eyes was done before Scarlett was, and he silently walked to the edge of the roof and took a look around. Three stories below them was a wide parking lot currently lined with tractor trailers. Several large wooden crates were stacked up near the trucks, and a forklift was moving around, loading one of the trailers.

Scarlett snuck to the edge and looked out as well. The parking lot was surrounded in a tall fence topped with razor wire, and armed guards patrolled the whole area. A trio of large spotlights swept back and forth across the edge of the fence. Scarlett looked closely at the guards as they walked along the perimeter.

"Those don't look like normal security guards," she whispered.

Snake Eyes shook his head. They had expected guards, of course, since M.A.R.S. was a weapons manufacturer. But the men patrolling the area below them were not your standard security personnel wearing blue uniforms and carrying a flashlight and a pistol. They wore specialized black and red body armor and wielded machine guns.

Snake Eyes and Scarlett went to the rear side of the building and saw that the coast was clear on that side. For the moment, there were no guards patrolling that area, and the entire side of the building was dark. In a few minutes, they were both rappelling down the side of the building with rope from Snake Eyes' pack.

They crept in darkness to the edge of the building and Snake Eyes peeked out briefly across the parking lot. As one of the spotlights swept past them, they ducked back behind the building, staying in shadow. Snake Eyes held up two fingers, indicating that two guards were nearby. As soon as the spotlight moved back in the other direction, he snuck out moved along the side of the building. Scarlett stayed close behind.

Two guards had their backs to them, watching as the forklift loaded another crate into one of the trailers. The crate was unmarked, as were the trailers. They had no signs or markings to designate them as a weapon transport. The fact that the crates were being loaded onto unmarked commercial vehicles was suspicious. Normally a shipment such as this would be transported with special vehicles under special guard.

"_Who are they shipping these weapons to?_" Scarlett asked in sign language.

Snake Eyes paused, watching the guards. "_Maybe it's not weapons_," he signed back. "_Maybe they're just loading equipment or machinery_."

There were a pair of large dock doors on this side of the building, and one of them began to open with a loud hum. Snake Eyes and Scarlett moved along the edge of the building, concealed by deep shadows, until they were only fifty feet from the door. They remained hidden behind a stack of broken wooden pallets a few feet high. When the door opened all the way, a second forklift came through, carrying another wooden crate. Four armed guards walked out as well, and Scarlett peeked out from above the pallets to see someone else join the guards.

"_There she is_," she signed excitedly to Snake Eyes. "_The woman we're looking for_."

Standing with her arms on her hips was the tall brunette captured on the Russian security video. She wore black boots, black leather pants, and a long black leather trenchcoat that flapped lazily around her feet. Lights above the doors shined down on her, reflecting off the leather outfit and off the edge of her thin-framed glasses. She looked harshly out across the lot at the trucks being loaded and then waved her arms at the second forklift operator.

"Let's go! We don't have all night!" she snapped.

One of the guards came over and said something to her, and then she returned to the building, followed by a few more guards.

The minutes crawled by with agonizing slowness as Snake Eyes and Scarlett waited, watching as the final few crates were loaded onto the trailers. Scarlett checked her watch and saw that almost a full half-hour had passed since they had landed at the facility. By now, Stalker and Clutch were probably in position at the rendevous point.

Finally, the two forklifts drove back into the building, and guards began to close up the trucks. The two guards nearest them went over to the door and walked inside, and a second later the door started to close behind them.

Snake Eyes glanced up around them. "_Wait here_," he signed. "_I'll be just a moment_."

Before Scarlett could even ask him what he was doing, he jumped out from behind the pallets and ran to the door in the space of a few seconds. He was like a blur, barely noticeable in his black uniform as he zipped through the shadows along the side of the building.

The dock door was almost closed by the time he got there, only a few feet off the ground and closing fast. Snake Eyes ran up to it and rolled right under the door just before it closed completely. Scarlett stared at the door in utter disbelief, looking around nervously. By some miracle, none of the guards outside noticed Snake Eyes, since they were still paying attention to the trucks.

The door stopped when it was barely a foot off the ground, and to Scarlett's amazement, she saw Snake Eyes' gloved hand come out from under it and wave to her. Scarlett took a deep breath, waited until she was sure the other guards were not looking in her direction, and ran to the door. She quickly crawled under it and got to her feet.

She found herself in a wide, empty loading dock with bright overhead lights, that led to a production area through a large foyer. Lying on the ground in front of her were two unconscious guards, sprawled painfully on the bare concrete. When Scarlett looked at Snake Eyes, he merely shrugged.

"_They were like that when I got here_," he signed. "_I swear._"

After they had dragged the unconscious guards out of sight, they snuck to the foyer and looked out into the production area. It was a long rectangular area lined with aisles with large metal racks and more stacks of wooden crates and large metal bins. The area led off to another room far to the left, and there was a large doorway at the other side as well leading into more storage.

There were at least a dozen guards walking around, all of them wearing the same red and black body armor. They were loading guns into smaller shipping containers, and packing the containers into more crates.

All the while, the woman in the leather trenchcoat supervised the operation. She walked around and barked orders to the workers, while talking intermittently into a cell phone.

Scarlett took a small digital camera from one of the pouches on her supply belt and began snapping photographs. Snake Eyes tapped on her shoulder and pointed to his left. Along the wall was a metal staircase that led up to a series of catwalks above the production floor. Scarlett nodded and the two of them snuck along the wall to the staircase.

The metal stairs seemed to creak under Scarlett's feet, but Snake Eyes moved up to the catwalk as silently as a ghost. When they were up at the top, they had a perfect view down to the entire production and warehouse area.

"They aren't making those guns here," Scarlett said quietly, taking more pictures with her camera. "They're just packing them up and shipping them. I thought this was supposed to be a manufacturing facility."

Snake Eyes shook his head and pointed down to one corner of the room. Lying on a long table were half a dozen oblong wooden crates. Scarlett didn't recognize them at first, but she saw a few opened crates lying across the aisle and realized what she was looking at. They were crates full of cheap rocket launchers, the kind used by terrorists throughout the Middle East, sold primarily by Russian arms dealers. The workers were unloading them from their original crates and repacking them into larger containers for shipment.

"What in the world is going on here?" Scarlett asked. She snapped a photo of the rocket launchers and looked at Snake Eyes, who just crossed his arms disapprovingly.

"Hey!" someone below them shouted. "Up there!"

One of the workers noticed them, and all of a sudden they were all drawing guns. Snake Eyes and Scarlett immediately bolted along the catwalk to the opposite end of the room, where the catwalk led to a maintenance doorway. As Snake Eyes ran, he pulled both his pistols from their holsters.

The woman in the leather outfit screamed, "Don't just stand there! Shoot them!"

Gunshots rang out and bullets struck the ceiling directly over their heads, sparking and ricocheting on the metal ceiling panels. Bullets blasted the edge of the catwalk. Scarlett felt a bullet tear through her parachute pack but it managed to miss her body.

Snake Eyes slammed the maintenance door open and they rushed through as more bullets rattled against the wall, blasting off bits of plaster and tile. Scarlett swung the door closed and it clanged with bullet impacts.

"What do we do now?" Scarlett asked, drawing her crossbow. "Are we going to just shoot our way out of here?"

"_That's the idea_," Snake Eyes signed.

"We can't kill anyone," Scarlett said firmly.

"_Right. But we can wound them if we have to._"

They went down the maintenance corridor, which was lined with electrical boxes and small closets full of spare parts and janitorial supplies. A door at the end of the hall led to another hallway, this one lined with gray carpet and lit with muted overhead lights. Abstract artwork hung on the walls, and nearby doors led to conference rooms and offices.

Almost as soon as they entered the hallway, they heard the sound of doors banging open and heavy footsteps coming in their direction. A loud voice shouted, "Go! Check every room! Check the maintenance shaft!"

Snake Eyes and Scarlett ran down the hall and turned a corner, heading down to another hallway intersection that split off to the left and right. Before they made it halfway there, Scarlett heard more footsteps ahead of them from the upcoming hallway.

Snake Eyes ran even faster and jumped into the air. A soldier in red and black armor appeared at the hallway and had time to raise his gun just as Snake Eyes kicked him directly in the chest, launching him into the air as if he'd been struck by a speeding train. He sailed backward, his machine gun spinning into the air, and flipped upside down. Along the wall was a long glass case with thin wooden shelves of medieval artifacts, and the soldier slammed into it head first. He shattered the glass as his body crashed to the floor, taking the shelves with him.

There was another soldier as well coming around the corner, and Scarlett threw herself at him, crashing the two of them through a doorway and onto the floor.

Snake Eyes plucked the soldier's machine gun out of the air before it even hit the ground. He turned to open fire down the hallway they had come from, as more soldiers came running toward them. Fire danced from the gun's barrel and the lights along the ceiling of the hallway burst like flash bulbs. Soldiers scattered and ran for cover.

Scarlett tumbled to her feet and kicked away the soldier's gun. He jumped up and lunged at her, but she spun around, grabbing his arm and effortlessly flipping him into the air. He flew over a conference table and crashed into the large office chairs. Scarlett ran up and struck him across the face with her elbow, knocking him out cold.

Snake Eyes tossed a couple of smoke grenades into the hall and they exploded in a huge puff of thick gray smoke. Since he had shot out the lights, the entire hallway was now dark and clouded with smoke, and he could hear the soldiers coughing and gasping for breath. A few of them dared to open fire blindly through the smoke, but Snake Eyes was already on the move.

He ran into the room with Scarlett and saw that she was okay. He walked right to the large windows in the conference room and picked up one of the chairs. He tossed the chair right through the window.

They jumped out together and landed deftly on the grass fifteen feet below. Luckily, they still faced the rear of the building, where it was darkest. They took off across the lawn as spotlights popped up closer to the compound and began sweeping across the open area.

They ran to a large fence surrounding the property and Snake Eyes took a grenade out, placing it right against the fence. He and Scarlett ran back and crouched down as the grenade blew a hole in the fence, giving them room to squeeze through. The grenade gave away their position immediately, and gunfire burst from the window they had jumped from. Bullets struck the ground nearby, spitting up dirt.

"Stalker!" Scarlett said into her microphone. "We are leaving the target and are being pursued! You'll have to come and get us! We're heading north right now!"

Stalker's voice came through her earpiece. "We're on our way. We'll be there in five minutes."

Snake Eyes and Scarlett ran full speed across the open field, sprinting as fast they as could go. Their black outfits made them almost invisible against the dark landscape, but if one of the spotlights swept past them, Scarlett's red hair would stick out like a sore thumb. It hardly mattered, since their footprints across the field would be easy to track. They heard more scattered gunfire and distant shouting behind them.

Scarlett dared a glance over her shoulder and saw moving lights along the fence where they had gotten through. The lights moved fast in their direction and the sound of an engine reached her ears..

"They're on motorcycles!" she cried.

They ran up across the top of a ridge and more gunfire burst out behind them as their pursuers saw their silhouettes outlined against the sky, even in the darkness. Snake Eyes jumped down along the other slope of the hill and slid on his knees. Scarlett went to help him up but he waved her off and crouched down right along the top of the slope. They heard the motorcycles get closer, and their headlights marked their approach.

When the first motorcycle flew up along the top of the ridge, it caught air as it came over, and Snake Eyes was ready, swinging upward with his katana blade. It cut through the front tire and damaged the rim with the sound of scraping metal. When the cycle hit the ground it immediately flipped upside down, its front wheel bending right in half, and sent its rider soaring through the air and crumpling to the ground.

Scarlett met the next biker as he came over the ridge, jumping into the air and kicking him right in the face. He flipped over backwards, his gun flying from his hand, and the motorcycle spun out of control. Two cycles were down, but there was still one more coming.

It zoomed across the ridge and went right past Snake Eyes. It turned halfway down the slope, its rear wheel spinning madly, kicking up dirt and chunks of grass, its bright headlight shining right at them. The rider brought his machine gun up.

Scarlett went down to one knee and drew her crossbow. Just as the cycle rider opened fire, she pressed the trigger and sent a bolt straight into his neck. He slapped a hand to his neck as if swatting a mosquito, and toppled from the bike as it drove out from under him, crashing to the ground without a rider.

Snake Eyes paused a moment, shielding his eyes from the glare of the cycle headlight. He looked over at Scarlett and signed, "_I thought we couldn't kill anyone_."

"He's not dead," Scarlett said, tucking the crossbow back into its large holster at her hip. "I used tranquilizer darts. He'll just be asleep for a few hours."

"_Not bad. I'm impressed_."

"Come on, let's go."

They had only gone another hundred yards before the MPAV came roaring toward them, with Stalker at the gunner position, wielding the .50 caliber machine gun mounted on the roof. He jumped down and opened the doors for Scarlett and Snake Eyes to get in, and then got in the front passenger seat.

"Gun it, Clutch," he said. "Get us out of here."

Clutch, sitting in the driver's seat, gripped the steering wheel tightly and smiled, his eyes glowing with excitement. "Yes, sir."


	14. Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Thirteen

Destro leaned back in his chair and thoughtfully folded his hands in his lap, looking down at his desktop. Across from him, the Baroness shifted uncomfortably in her seat, licking her lips nervously. Warm morning sunlight came through the windows, casting rows of narrow shadows across the room from the opened venetian blinds.

"I'm so sorry, James," the Baroness said for the third time, fidgeting with her hands in her lap. Her eyes betrayed her weariness; she had been up all night. "I don't know how they got in. I know I should have been watching. And I should have sent more men. I know that, and I promise –"

"Anastasia, please," Destro said gently. "This wasn't your fault. You were there to supervise the shipment, not to provide security. You're not to blame here."

"I just don't understand how they got in, James," the Baroness said, shaking her head. "How we could have missed them. They must have been right in the open."

"I'm more concerned with who they were working for," Destro said, his voice darkening momentarily. He clenched his teeth for a few seconds and then relaxed. He reached for the glass of brandy on the desk and took a sip.

"They must be working for Cobra," the Baroness said, although she sounded anything but confident. "They were sent to spy on us."

"Possibly. Or perhaps they were sent by one of my rivals," Destro said. "I have many enemies, you know. And why would Cobra bother to sent agents here to spy on our operations? We received their final payment two days ago."

"Yes, that's true."

Destro shook his head slightly and reached for the photographs taken of the intruders by one of the security cameras. As Baroness had said, they had been right out in the open. A camera on the loading dock had caught them entering the building through the same dock door that Baroness herself had used not more than ten minutes earlier. There had still been guards posted right outside, so Destro was at a loss as to how they had waltzed right in without being noticed. He would have some harsh words for the guards on duty.

The first intruder had came through the door while it was still closing, and then taken out two guards single-handedly, apparently without making a sound. The second one came in after that. Destro didn't understand why one of them wore a mask and the other didn't.

"How many guards were injured?" he asked.

"Eight," the Baroness said.

"And one of the intruders opened fire, but he deliberately fired over the guards' heads?"

"I wasn't there, but that's what they told me. They said he shot out the lights and then threw smoke grenades."

"Interesting," Destro said.

It was far from interesting, of course. It was very peculiar. Cobra agents or spies working for a rival arms dealer would not have been so careful with the lives of Destro's employees. The two guards taken by surprise on the loading dock would have been silently killed, not merely incapacitated. And why bother shooting over someone's head, when you can just shoot them directly in the head?

Unless they were ordered not to kill anyone. But who would give such an order?

"I think I know how they snuck past our security," Destro said, looking at the photographs. "They jumped from a plane and parachuted down. Has anyone checked the roof?"

"The roof?" the Baroness asked. "No, I don't think so."

"Send someone up and look for anything out of place. I doubt they left their parachutes there for us to find, but maybe they left some other evidence."

"It's possible, but how can you be sure?"

"They didn't kill anyone. Even when they had been detected and were trying to escape, they tried not to kill. I think they were working for the government, or at least the military."

The Baroness' eyes went wide at the knowledge, as she began to make connections and realize the ramifications. "James, if they were taking pictures, then they ..."

"Yes, they probably saw some things they shouldn't have. But there's no sense in worrying about it now. We have other things to take care of first. The final shipment to Cobra was planned for this weekend, correct?"

"Yes."

"Do it tonight. Do whatever is necessary, but I want all those weapons out of the warehouse by tomorrow morning."

"Of course," the Baroness said, sitting up a bit straighter. She was clearly still exhausted, but Destro knew she would not complain about her lack of sleep. He knew she would do as he instructed her, no matter how tired she was.

"You better get started now. I'll come down later and help you organize the shipment, but I have some other business to take care of first."

"Yes, James." She stood up and left the office, already in a hurry. Organizing the next shipment would take hours, and they didn't even have all the items delivered to their own facility yet. That meant phone calls, demands, threats, even bribes. Getting the entire shipment out the door in 24 hours was going to be nearly impossible, but the Baroness was not going to let Destro down, not after last night.

She walked briskly down the hall toward the elevator, her mind racing. She needed coffee if she was going to think clearly. She'd been up almost 30 hours already, having spent the entire night trying to clean up the mess, figuring out if anything was stolen, viewing the security tapes, and yelling at the guards who managed to let two spies into the facility.

The elevator dinged and started to open as she approached it, and she slowed her pace when she saw who was inside. It was a man dressed in a sharp gray business suit, with shining brown leather shoes and a red tie. His eyes were concealed behind reflective sunglasses, and he smiled at her winningly as he stepped from the elevator, flashing bright white teeth. His hair was brown and cut into a short, respectable hairstyle. He lifted his arm to adjust his sleeve, showing off the expensive golden watch adorning his wrist.

"Hey, baby," he sneered.

The Baroness gritted her teeth and walked past him, getting into the elevator and stabbing the down button. The man turned to watch her go, and she glared at him as the doors closed, sending her downstairs.

He snickered, as if at some private joke, and continued down the hall to Destro's office. He did not bother to knock as he came inside.

Destro glanced up, sipping his brandy. The man walked up to the desk and flopped himself down in the chair that Baroness had just recently left. He shifted in the chair and smiled, folding his hands.

"Ooh, the seat is still warm."

"Good morning, Zartan," Destro said, his voice neutral.

"I heard you had a break in last night."

Destro set the glass down on his desk. "Now, how would you have found out about that already?"

"I deal in information," Zartan said, grinning broadly. His voice was clipped and professional, neither the Western drawl nor the gruff mumble that he had used the last time he and the Baroness had worked together.

"Do you recognize either of them?" Destro asked, motioning to the photographs.

Zartan reached out and plucked the photos off the desk. He leaned back and studied them for a moment, pursing his lips. "I'm afraid not. Although I'd love to get to know the redhead a little bit better. They must be military, possibly CIA."

"How can you tell?"

"Hmm, just a hunch. The uniforms give it away. Did they steal anything, or were they just looking around?"

"Just looking, as far as we know."

"Is this what you called me in for? Want me to track them down?"

Destro shook his head. "No, I have something else in mind. You know about our recent deal with the Cobra group, correct?"

"Of course."

"You've heard of them?"

"I've heard rumors," Zartan said evasively. Any information he passed onto Destro, he expected to be paid for. For now, Destro did not press him.

"I want you to do some surveillance for me," Destro said. "See if you can get inside their operation. They have some German scientist working for them, and I want to know what kind of project he's working on."

"The scientist goes by the name Mindbender," Zartan said casually. "But it's an alias, of course. And he's not German."

"Is that so?"

Zartan merely held out his hand. Destro reached into a desk drawer and pulled out a large manilla envelope. He held it up but did not hand it over. "This gives you the information you need. Their location, and a rough schematic of the building. It's enough to get you inside. After that, you'll be on your own. I trust you won't have any difficulty fitting in."

"I can fit in anywhere," Zartan said smoothly, reaching out to take the folder. "And my payment? I won't accept the usual amount for a mission of this nature."

"Fine, take double. If the information you bring me is particularly useful, you can have triple. Does that sound fair?"

"Give me a few hours with your girlfriend, and we'll call it even."

"I don't think she would enjoy that arrangement."

"I know, I wouldn't want her to."

Zartan got up and smoothed out the wrinkles on his suit. He tucked the folder under his arm and lowered his sunglasses a bit so Destro could see his eyes. They were tinted purple by used of colored contacts. He winked and then left the office, whistling softly.


	15. Chapter Fourteen

_This chapter didn't turn out exactly as I had planned, and I'm not even sure it's entirely necessary as far as the main plot is concerned. I think this chapter could be shortened up a bit. I got carried away when they started talking about all the different psychiatric treatments and forgot what the whole point of the chapter was. Hopefully there are no psychologists reading this, because I'm sure I made lots of factual mistakes. Anyway, this chapter was necessary for the next chapter, which should be more exciting and action-packed._

Chapter Fourteen

The New York Institute of Neurological Science and Development was a square, two story building right in the middle of downtown New York City, conspicuous on a large block of much taller buildings that towered over it like a range of mountains. Traffic in New York, as always, was a nightmare, and Duke pulled into the building's parking lot almost half an hour late.

"I hate rush hour in this city," he said, shaking his head.

"It's alright," Hawk said, unbuckling his seat belt. "I don't think they cancelled our appointment."

Duke and Hawk got out of the dark blue SUV, followed by Shipwreck, who had been sitting in the back seat. He stepped out and stretched with a grunt, looking around the landscape of skyscrapers. While Duke and Hawk had chosen to dress formally, Duke in a white dress shirt and Hawk in his military dress, Shipwreck was dressed in jeans and a blue long-sleeved shirt. He had the sleeves rolled up, exposing the tattoos in his arms, and he wore a pair of black sunglasses. He brushed a hand through his jet black hair and stared up at the buildings.

"Now I remember why I joined the Navy," he said.

"Don't like the big city?" Duke asked.

"Not really, man. Cities are too close. I like to see things coming a long way away."

Hawk smoothed out the front of his green uniform. "Come on guys, let's go meet the doctor."

They walked into the large, white tile lobby and went to the front desk. The secretary quickly got on the phone while they waited. Duke and Hawk walked around the lobby, looking at the corporate artwork decorating the walls, while Shipwreck leaned against the desk and flirted with the secretary.

A few minutes later, a man came into the lobby, his hands folded behind his back. He wore a long white lab coat, spotlessly clean, and gray trousers and shoes. He was completely bald, the overhead lights shining off the top of his head, and he sported a thin mustache. Wire rim glasses rested on the bridge of his sharp nose.

"Welcome," he said with a trace of a German accent. "I am Doctor Dimitri Bogdanovich, and I'm the senior researcher here at the Institute. It is good to meet you, General."

Hawk shook the doctor's hand firmly. "Good to meet you too, Doctor. I take it you know why we're here?"

"Of course," Bogdanovich said with the merest trace of a smile. "I can take you right into our lab if you wish. I'm sure you have many questions."

He led Hawk and Duke out of the lobby and into the hallway to the elevators. When Shipwreck followed, Bogdanovich glanced at him uncertainly.

"It's okay," Hawk said. "He's with us."

"Okay," Bogdanovich said, sounding disappointed. He glanced at Shipwreck's casual clothing with a frown.

"We only know a little bit about the work you do here," Duke said. "How about you start by giving us some more information?"

"Certainly," Bogdanovich said with a curt nod. "Our primary interest here at the Institute lies in treatments for a variety of neurological disorders. We study the effects of various medicines and drugs on the brain, to put it very simply."

"What kinds of drugs?" Hawk asked.

"There are many different drugs we work with," the doctor said, somewhat evasively. "Some of them are standard medications you can get at any pharmacy, such as Valium or Prozac. We study their effects and publish our results in medical journals. Some of the drugs we use have not been passed by the FDA yet, and we perform various clinical trials, of course. Some of our other work is more advanced."

They boarded the elevator and Bogdanovich hit the button for the lower floor. He slid his hands into the large front pockets of his lab coat. "We do lots of work for the Pentagon, testing different drugs and treatments for use by the military. I am allowed to tell you about this, but much of our work is by necessity classified."

"I understand," Hawk said. "My men and I have the appropriate clearance."

"Yes, I know. I had to check before I could come and speak with you."

The elevator opened and Bogdanovich walked out, leading them down a long corridor lined with windows into many different lab rooms. Shipwreck glanced into the rooms to see men lying on hospital beds, hooked up to IVs and other medical equipment. Other rooms had men wearing large devices on their heads that were hooked up to computer displays. There were other scientists wearing lab coats, but they paid the GI Joe team members little mind.

"This is one of our current projects," Bogdanovich said, motioning into one of the lab rooms, where several men were sitting at tables, IV drips attached to their arms. A nurse at another desk was showing them a series of photographs.

"It's a memory test," Bogdanovich explained. "We believe that the combination of drugs we are giving them can increase their memory. It is one of many programs we are currently running."

"Is this program for the Pentagon as well?" Hawk asked.

"To be honest, I don't know," Bogdanovich said. "They provide a significant amount of funding for us, so most of the projects are at least partially funded by the Pentagon."

"Exactly what drugs are you giving them?" Duke asked, crossing his arms, watching the testing intently.

"Well, I can't give you specifics," Bogdanovich said. "The treatments we use are all safe in the doses we use, if that is what you're worried about, and the men here are all volunteers, of course. Every test we do is cleared by higher management before we start."

"But all the drugs you use here are ... what's the word? Psychoanalytic?"

"Psychoactive," Bogdanovich corrected him. "Yes, the medications affect brain function by altering the levels of neurotransmitters in the brain."

Duke gave Hawk a concerned look, and Bogdanovich continued, somewhat defensively. "They are no different than other legal, prescribed medications such as Prozac and Valium, I assure you. Those drugs work by altering brain function, I thought that even a non-medical man would know this."

"What other kinds of tests are done here?" Shipwreck asked. "If the Pentagon is funding your research, there must be military applications."

"Yes, of course. Some of the work we do is designed to lessen the effects of post-traumatic stress disorder on soldiers in the field. We're trying to develop treatments for other stress-related disorders as well."

"Can we see some of the tests? Are they being done right now?"

Bogdanovich scratched absentmindedly at his cheek. "Yes, I believe so. Please, come with me."

They followed the doctor down the hall to a stairway heading to the next level underground. He approached a locked door with a card reader, and slid his identification badge through. The door beeped and a green light clicked on.

Bogdanovich pushed open the doors. "This way, please."

In a large lab area, there were more hospital beds laid out, and more men lying there, hooked up to dripping IVs. Knowledge that the men involved in the experiments were United States soldiers, instead of just regular civilian volunteers, made the test somehow different, although none of them could say exactly why. Perhaps it was just a soldier's natural sense of loyalty to other soldiers.

"Most psychological disorders are caused by an imbalance in the neurotransmitters in the brain," Bogdanovich explained, having apparently decided that Duke and the others were completely ignorant of the science involved. "Too little serotonin can cause depression, for example. Too much dopamine can lead to schizophrenia. These are oversimplified examples, of course, but you get the idea."

He gestured into the lab area. "Our research here is designed to discover what causes other disorders, and if they can be treated with the proper psychoactive drugs. We're trying to learn how different mixtures of drugs affect the brain."

"Okay," Hawk said. "Now, you know about the scientists who were kidnapped recently, correct? Such as Ward Stevens, who worked at the New York Mental Institute?"

"Yes," Bogdanovich said with a short nod. "He was an associate of mine. He and I shared consulted with each other often about our work."

"Dr. Stevens worked on similar research, is that right?"

"Yes, he and I worked in the same field, although his work was not funded by the military. I believe he got his funding from a consortium of pharmaceutical companies."

Duke pointed into the lab room. "But he did tests like this as well?"

"Yes, I believe so."

"We want to know why those scientists were kidnapped," Hawk said. "We suspect that they were kidnapped by a terrorist organization, but we don't know why. Can you maybe shed some light on that?"

Bogdanovich bristled at the question. "I assure you I have no idea what you mean."

"Well, if I understand this right, you're trying to use these brain altering drugs to cure psychological problems. Because the drugs can change the person's behavior, correct? But how drastic are these effects? How much can you change someone's behavior?"

"The effects are very specific," Bogdanovich said. "We treat certain behaviors, such as paranoia, or depression, or even anger management issues. Sometimes the drugs have other behavioral side effects, but no more than regular prescribed medicine, as I explained."

"But you also work with new drugs that haven't been fully tested yet."

"Yes," Bogdanovich said, getting annoyed.

"What if there was a way to use these kinds of drugs to alter someone's behavior completely?"

"That's absurd," Bogdanovich snapped. "You can't brainwash people with psychoactive drugs. They don't work that way."

"Maybe not, but that would explain why the scientists were kidnapped," Hawk said.

"Yeah," Shipwreck said. "In some of those files about the ... terrorist organization," he said, careful not to use the name Cobra, "the files mentioned that they might operate as some kind of cult. Parents accused them of brainwashing their children."

"And I'm telling you that's complete lunacy," Bogdanovich insisted. "You can't just brainwash someone like that."

"But it would make brainwashing them much easier," Duke pointed out. "If you gave someone drugs to calm them down or make them more trusting, it would be easier to manipulate them. Maybe that's what their goal is. They kidnapped scientists who could help them develop some kind of treatment to make people easy to brainwash."

Bogdanovich shook his head and looked at his watch. "Listen, I think what you're suggesting is ridiculous. But perhaps you're right. This group of terrorists might try something like that, I suppose. But it would never work. Now, I'm afraid I have a meeting to go to in a few minutes, so I'm going to have to cut short your tour."

He led them back upstairs and to the elevator, and then back to the lobby. Hawk stopped to shake his hand before they left. "Thank you for talking with us. I think we've learned some important information. It gives us something to work with."

"If you have any other questions, you can contact me," Bogdanovich said.

As they walked back to the truck, Shipwreck shook his head. "I don't know about this, man. Brainwashing people? It sounds awfully crazy to me."

"Yes, it does," Duke agreed. "But I think that's got to be what Cobra has in mind. They kidnapped a bunch of scientists who all study how drugs alter brain chemistry."

"Maybe they want to synthesize some kind of addictive drug," Shipwreck suggested.

"That's also a possibility," Hawk said, opening the SUV door. "But at the very least, we have something to go on."

All three of them got inside, and Duke pulled out of the parking lot. As the SUV drove out into the street and into heavy traffic, Dr. Bogdanovich watched them from his office window on the second floor of the Institute.

"Yes, I know," he said in to a cell phone, talking hurriedly. "But they work for the military, and they already know about us. No, they didn't say it was Cobra, but I know that's what they meant. I'm telling you they know too much about this, they took one look at my work here and guessed most of it right away. Yes, I'm looking at their vehicle right now."

He gave them the SUV's license plate number and said, "They're probably heading to the airport right now. We need to know who they're work for and who else knows about this. I'm telling you they already know too much!"


	16. Chapter Fifteen

_I intended this chapter to be much longer, but I decided to split it into two chapters instead because I wanted to switch the point of view halfway through to make it easier to follow. Not much actually happens in this chapter, but the next chapter has a bunch of action in it. I'll get it uploaded next weekend. Thanks to everyone leaving reviews and comments, I really appreciate it._

Chapter Fifteen

Duke pulled up behind a line of cars at a red light. The line of cars continued behind them, as people waited to get to the on-ramp to the highway. The entire street was packed with cars and trucks in both directions, and so was the street heading to the left and right at the intersection ahead of them.

"I hate rush hour in this city," Duke said.

Shipwreck chuckled in the back seat. "Yeah, man. You already told us."

"You've mentioned it a couple of times, actually," Hawk added, leaning back in his seat, holding a folder in his hands.

"Well, it's true," Duke said, smiling.

Shipwreck leaned forward, resting his arms on the two front seats. "So do you think this trip was worth it? I mean, we don't have much more info than we had to begin with."

"I'm afraid the doctor wasn't very cooperative," Hawk said, scanning the sheets of paper in his lap. "But at least we have some idea what Cobra kidnapped those other scientists for."

"I was wondering about that," Shipwreck said. "Do you think Cobra might try to kidnap Dr. Bog-whatever his name was? Does he know that he's at risk?"

"Of course," Hawk said. "But it says here that he turned down extra security, even when they warned him. This is one of the reports we have on him. I didn't get around to reading it earlier."

"Does it tell us anything we don't already know?"

Hawk scratched his cheek absentmindedly. "I haven't read the whole thing yet." He glanced up and said casually, "Duke, the light is green."

Duke looked forward and saw that the cars were moving. He drove slowly through the intersection and veered right onto the highway on-ramp. The highway was just as packed with cars as the city streets, and he could see the gridlock from here, but it was still the fastest way to the airport. Their private plane was waiting to take them back to the Pit in Rhode Island.

"We have to talk to Snake Eyes and Scarlett as well when we get back," Duke said. "They took photographs of the inside of the compound and those weapons they saw. Maybe we can get some information from the pictures, like some kind of shipping label on the containers."

"Possibly," Hawk said, nodding. "But I think they were too far away to see details like that. I'm more interested in those soldiers they ran into. I think Breaker was trying to dig up information on them."

As they drove up the on-ramp, Shipwreck heard car horns blaring behind them. He glanced over his shoulder and looked out the back window to see a pair of black trucks zooming through the intersection after the light turned red. Cars going the other way had to slam on their brakes to avoid a collision. The two trucks sped through and headed up the on-ramp as well. Shipwreck shrugged and faced forward again.

Duke merged into the right hand lane of the highway and squeezed in among the rows of cars and trucks. He glanced in the side mirrors and fell into line with traffic.

"What kind of information?" he asked. "I assumed they were just the special security force for M.A.R.S."

"Remember those Russian pictures Breaker found?" Hawk asked. "The guards in those pictures wore body armor very similar to the guards at M.A.R.S. I'm wondering if maybe that woman named Anastasia has been working for M.A.R.S. all along."

"That changes things," Duke said. "That would mean that M.A.R.S. has connections with black market weapons dealers."

"And if Scarlett was right about those rocket launchers they saw, it's a lot more than just a connection. If M.A.R.S. is dealing weapons on the black market, then what's to stop them from selling to Cobra?"

"They have contracts with the Pentagon too," Shipwreck added. "They have designs and plans for all sorts of prototype weapons. They could be selling that information too."

"And we thought that woman was the key to this," Duke said, shaking his head in amazement. "If we hadn't found out about her first, we never would have investigated M.A.R.S. in the first place."

Hawk nodded, still reading the reports in the folder. "Funny how things work out like that."

Duke stayed in the right lane the entire drive, never moving out to pass another car, even as numerous cars and trucks swung out into the middle lane to pass him. Shipwreck, sitting in the back seat, watched as car after car moved past them. They didn't talk for a few minutes, as Hawk focused on the reports in his lap, and Duke focused on driving. Shipwreck kept his silence for several minutes, as more cars passed them and Duke did not speed up or move out of the right hand lane.

"You know," Shipwreck finally said, "the speed limit here is actually 65. You don't have to go 45 the whole way."

"Very funny," Duke said. "Are you in a hurry or something?"

"No, but I'd like to get back to base before my next birthday."

"I'm going the speed limit," Duke said, pointing at the speedometer on the dash. "All these other drivers are speeding."

"Sure thing, man. You drive like my great-grandmother."

Hawk laughed at that. "We should have asked Clutch to drive us. He'd have us at the airport by now."

"Yeah," Duke said. "And he'd have a dozen speeding tickets too. Our entire budget would go to paying his fines."

Shipwreck laughed and looked around. He sat sideways in his seat and watched out the back window. More cars were swinging out into the middle lane to pass Duke, and as the traffic shifted, Shipwreck noticed two black trucks far behind them, staying in the right hand lane. They were about ten or fifteen car lengths behind and maintained that distance. He watched them for a few moments and realized that they were the same two black trucks that had run the red light to get to the on-ramp behind Duke.

Shipwreck reached under his seat and pulled out a gray plastic case. Most military trucks, even civilian ones, carried supply packs with items ranging from flares to medical kits to guns. He flipped open the case and took out a small pair of binoculars that was packed in with the other items.

Raising them to his eyes, he looked out the back window at the pair of trucks, getting a closer view through the front window of the first one. There were several men in the truck, but he could only see the two in the front seats clearly. Both of them were white men with short brown hair, and both of them were staring right ahead. Although he couldn't be sure, Shipwreck got the impression that they were looking right back at him. They were watching the truck that Shipwreck and the others were riding in.

"Hey Hawk," he said, lowering the binoculars.

"What is it?"

"This is going to sound crazy. But I think we're being followed."

Hawk turned quickly in his seat to look at Shipwreck. "What are you talking about?"

"Back there," Shipwreck said. "Those two black trucks got onto the highway right after we did, and they ran a red light to do it. And they're still right on our tail, even though everyone else is passing us."

Hawk looked out the back window and narrowed his eyes. "How could anyone be following us? No one knows we're here."

Duke looked in the rear view mirror. "There's only one way to find out," he said, and flipped on his turn signal. He glanced to make sure no one was beside them, and then swerved out into the middle lane and sped up. He passed a semi truck and several other cars, and then quickly switched back into the right lane.

"There they are," Shipwreck said, pointing. From beyond the semi, they could see the two black trucks going out into the middle lane as well. "They're not professionals, they're being way too obvious about it."

"Most people would never think to look for someone following them," Hawk said. "I didn't even think of it."

"So what do you think we should do?" Duke asked. "Just go to the airport as planned? It's not like they can get on the plane with us."

"I want to know who they are," Hawk said firmly. "We have to stall them somehow."

"Get back off the highway at the next exit," Shipwreck suggested. "Drive on the city streets, it will take longer to get where we're going."

"Do it," Hawk said, pulling out his cell phone. He quickly dialed the Pit and put the phone to his ear. When Breaker answered, Hawk said, "We're in New York. We just left our meeting with Dr. Bogdanovich, and now we're being followed on our way back to the airport. Who is there at the Pit right now?"

"Gung-Ho and Heavy Duty are here, and Clutch is too" Breaker said. "Are you in danger?"

"Not right now, but we need back up. How long would it take to get them on a plane to New York?"

"Twenty minutes, tops. We have priority clearance at Andrews."

"Okay, get on that. We're going to drive the long way through the city to buy some time."

"Yes, sir. I'll call you back when they take off."

"Okay, talk to you soon."

He hung up and turned around again to look out the back window. The two black trucks were still there, about ten car lengths behind them. Shipwreck had pulled out another plastic case from underneath the back seat and now held a pistol in his hands.

Duke left the highway at the next exit and slowed down as they approached the stop light at the end of the ramp. As they expected, the two trucks followed them through the intersection and into traffic, slowing down enough to keep a few car lengths away. Other cars merged in between them.

"Drive to the airport, but take the scenic route," Hawk advised Duke. "Clutch, Heavy Duty, and Hung-Ho are on their way here now. They'll meet us at the airport."

Shipwreck still sat sideways in his seat, one arm draped over the back of the seat, and his other hand gripping the pistol in his lap. He casually watched out the side window. "What do we do until then?" he asked.

Hawk rubbed his chin and looked in the side mirror. "Nothing," he said. "We just keep going and hope they keep following us."

"What if they try to attack us?"

"I don't think they want to, or else they probably would have done it already."

"Maybe they just don't want it done in public."

"Well then," Hawk said. "Once we get to the airport, I guess we'll find out."


	17. Chapter Sixteen

_I actually thought I could get two chapters done this week but it didn't quite work out. I did get this chapter finished at least. Based on my original plot outline, I think the story is just about halfway complete so far. I hope everyone likes how the story is going._

Chapter Sixteen

Gung-Ho spread his arms to hold onto each side of the wall in the narrow entrance as he walked up to the cockpit of the cargo plane. He squinted at the bright sunlight coming through the plane's front windows, and caught a glimpse of the airport coming into view in the distance. Both the pilot and the copilot wore large black sunglasses to shield their eyes from the glare.

"How long till we land?" he asked gruffly.

"About two minutes," the pilot said, glancing back at him. "You better go tell the others to get ready back there."

"Sure thing," Gung-Ho said, and walked back out of the cockpit as the plane began to tilt forward as it descended. He held onto the wall and went back into the cargo area, where the MPAV jeep was secured in place. Clutch was already in the driver's seat, tapping away on a small computer display on the dashboard.

"Let's get ready to roll," Gung-Ho announced, grabbing his M-16 from its attachment on the wall of the plane. He tugged down on the collar of his black set of body armor and went to the MPAV, getting into the driver's seat.

Heavy Duty came from around the other side, carrying a box of ammunition for the .50 caliber machine gun and setting it inside. Like Gung-Ho, he wore a set of black body armor on his chest, and his muscular arms were bare. He wore camouflage pants and had a green baseball cap turned backwards on his head.

"We're landing right now," Clutch said into the microphone headset around his ear. "ETA is about five minutes. Where are Hawk and the others?"

"Perfect timing," came a voice coming through the radio. It was Breaker, back at the Pit. Clutch had hooked up the radio so that everyone could hear what Breaker was saying. "They're two miles away, heading west. Their GPS location should be coming up on your computer right now."

"I've got it," Clutch said, tapping at the screen. "Okay, it looks like we're ready to go."

Gung-Ho put on a microphone headset as well and fiddled with it so the microphone wasn't rubbing against his cheek. Heavy Duty lowered his head and climbed into the back seat of the MPAV. He was so tall that he had to duck down to keep his head from rubbing against the roof. Gung-Ho handed him a headset and he donned it as well.

"Okay, we're loaded up," he said. "You good with that M-16 there, Gung-Ho?"

"Good enough, but I'd rather be carrying my old-fashioned M1 Carbine."

"You need more gun power than that, man."

"More bullets don't always mean more gun power," Gung-Ho said. "One well-aimed bullet is always better than ten badly-aimed ones."

The plane dipped downwards and then shuddered as it touched down on the runway. Clutch kept his gaze right on the computer screen, which showed a map overlay with the location of the truck Duke was driving. The plane slowed down and rolled to a heavy stop, the rear cargo door beginning to open before it had even come to a complete stop.

"You are clear to exit," the pilot's voice announced over the plane's intercom. "Good luck, gentlemen."

Clutch deactivated the lock that held the vehicle secure and then slammed his foot on the accelerator. Gung-Ho and Heavy Duty lurched back into their seats as Clutch launched the MPAV out of the back of the plane. It skidded onto the pavement, almost clearing the entire cargo ramp, and sped off toward one of the maintenance gates at the side of the runway. The engine roared as Clutch leaned forward, gripping the steering wheel with an excited look in his eyes. They approached the maintenance gate and didn't even slow down. Breaker had already called ahead and gotten the gates opened for them. Security guards standing at each side of the gate watched as the MPAV zoomed past.

"Patch me through to Hawk," Clutch said.

"Alright, I'm switching over," Breaker said through the radio. "I'm still eavesdropping on Hawk's phone, but I won't be able to talk to you."

There was a click and then they heard Hawk's voice coming through the speaker. "Clutch, are you there?"

"Yes, sir," Clutch said. He turned the wheel and they skidded onto a road leading back around toward the airport parking lots, leaving a pair of black skid marks on the pavement behind them. Gung-Ho involuntarily grabbed the door handle and gripped it tightly.

"Where are you right now?" Hawk asked.

"Leaving the airport. They gave us a free pass through the gate but it will take a couple minutes to get to the highway. I have your location on the computer."

"How long will it take for you to reach us?"

"Depends on the traffic, but not too long. Are they still following you?"

"Yes. We drove right through the city and they stayed behind us the whole time, although I can't believe it. They must think we haven't noticed them following us."

Clutch spun the wheel and the jeep screeched through a turn, heading down the street to the airport's main entrance. Cars going in the other direction zipped by in a blur, and car horns blared. Some of the ammo boxes in the vehicle tipped over, and Heavy Duty grabbed the back of Gung-Ho's seat to avoid falling over himself. Clutch sped down the street and spun the wheel again, deftly sliding the jeep across the entrance and out into traffic.

"Jeeeeeeeesus," Gung-Ho breathed, holding onto the door handle for dear life. "Where in the hell did you learn to drive, boy? A race track?"

"Actually, yeah," Clutch chuckled. "My dad was on the pit crew for a Nascar team back in the day. I grew up racing cars."

"Well, this ain't the Indy 500," Heavy Duty reminded him.

Clutch zipped through traffic, weaving in and out between other cars. More car horns blared in their wake as they blew through traffic. He turned right and sped down the next street, looking down at the computer screen.

Gung-Ho grabbed the computer and turned it so it faced the other way. He jabbed his finger forward toward the windshield. "Keep your eyes on the road, boy!"

"Sorry," Clutch muttered.

Hawk's voice came over the radio. "How far away are you?"

Gung-Ho checked the map. "We are two miles away and closing. We're headed east about two streets down from you. Keep going straight and we can meet up with you soon. I think Clutch can manage to catch up."

The MPAV roared down the street, jumping past a line of cars waiting at an intersection, swinging out into the lanes of opposing traffic. Gung-Ho pressed back into his seat, clenched his teeth, and closed his eyes.

"Oh, no you don't ..." Heavy Duty started to say.

"Yes, I do!" Clutch shouted as he sped the jeep right through a red light. A car coming the other way slammed on its brakes and screeched to a halt right in the middle of the street, and Clutch steered the jeep back into their own lane, laughing nervously.

"Can I open my eyes yet?" Gung-Ho asked.

Heavy Duty shook his head. "No, man. You better keep them closed."

"Copy that."

Clutch flipped the computer back towards him and glanced at the map. "Hawk," he said, "It looks like there's an empty lot about five blocks ahead of you, underneath the freeway overpass. Pull in there and I'll be right behind you."

"See if you can box them in," Hawk said. "I don't want them getting away. And I don't want to start a gunfight in the middle of New York either, so do not engage unless you are fired upon."

"Yes, sir," Clutch said. "See you in about a minute."

"Right."

Heavy Duty unlatched the door in the roof right above his head and pushed it open. He got into position and stood up, taking hold of the handles of the .50 caliber gun mounted on the roof. Wind buffeted his face, and he squinted against it, pressing his back into the padded edge of the opening in the roof. A bullet belt hung down from the gun into the vehicle, and he snapped back the lever, loading the first bullet into the chamber.

Clutch turned down a narrow side street and pulled out into a line of traffic, weaving and swerving around slower cars and trucks. Up ahead of them, Heavy Duty could see the freeway overpass lifting up above a line of old apartment buildings, and farther ahead he could see some empty lots directly underneath the freeway, surrounded by rusty chain link fences.

"There they are!" he boomed.

A dark blue SUV was pulling into one of the lots, and right behind it was a pair of larger black SUVs that followed it through the opening in the fence. The MPAV roared down the street and came up right behind them.

Immediately, the black SUVs spun out, kicking gravel behind spinning tires, and tried to speed away. The first one sped right across the lot and smashed through the chain link fence on the other side, and the second followed it right out, down across a concrete ridge and under the next overpass. Clutch stepped on the gas, and the MPAV zoomed right after them. Heavy Duty rocked back and forth in the gunner's position, but held the gun steady as the jeep lurched across the concrete bump.

The back window of the black SUV in front of them suddenly opened up and a man stuck his arm out, wielding an Uzi. With a loud popping noise, he opened fire, a bright orange muzzle flash bursting from the gun. Bullets clanged off the MPAV's front armor and made black streak marks on the bulletproof glass.

Heavy Duty squeezed the trigger, and the .50 caliber gun boomed deafeningly. The back window of the SUV shattered with a burst of glass, and the man shooting at them was thrown forward, the Uzi flying from his hands. The .50 caliber bullets tore baseball-sized holes in the back of the SUV and ripped down the side of the vehicle, blowing apart one of the rear tires.

The SUV skidded sideways and fishtailed out of control, dirt and gravel kicking up as the shredded back tire gouged into the ground. The vehicle slammed against a concrete barrier along the edge of the empty lot, sparks spraying up beside it. Clutch swerved out of the way as the SUV pitched forward and smashed over the barrier, flipping up and sailing into the air, a puff of smoke and smashed concrete trailing behind it. It spun sideways in mid-air and smashed right into one of the huge concrete pillars holding up the overpass above them. The entire roof caved in and the SUV crumpled to the ground, bent almost in half. Dirt, glass, chunks of shattered concrete, and bits of twisted metal rained to the ground, covering the area in debris.

"Woah!" Clutch cried out.

The other SUV smashed through another chain link fence and bounced up across the sidewalk, careening onto the street on the other side. Nearby pedestrians dove for cover. The MPAV caught air as it drove up the slight incline and landed hard on the pavement, skidding to the side. Heavy Duty held onto the machine gun and held himself in place as the jeep tilted to the side, almost throwing him from the vehicle.

Cars swerved out of the way as the SUV sped down the crowded street. Clutch pressed on the gas and pursued them, speeding down the avenue as more cars veered to the side, giving them plenty of room. Bystanders on the sidewalk stared in surprise as the two vehicles raced down the busy street.

One of the men in the SUV leaned out of the side window, armed with an Uzi, and opened fire. Bullets ricocheted harmlessly off the MPAV as Heavy Duty ducked down behind his gun. People on the sidewalk ducked down and ran for safety.

Gung-Ho called up to Heavy Duty. "Take them out!" he shouted.

Heavy Duty nodded and aimed the machine gun, pulling the trigger. The gun blew apart the back of the SUV, shattering the windows and blowing the rear bumper right off. As it sped towards the next intersection, the vehicle swerved out of control and plowed into a parked car along the sidewalk.

It smashed through the car in a burst of twisted metal and lifted up into the air, spinning sideways and crashing down onto the street in a hail of shattered glass. The SUV slid into the middle of the intersection as cars slammed on their brakes all around them. It rocked back and forth and tipped over onto its roof, and then finally came to a complete stop, surrounded in bits of wreckage.

Clutch stopped the MPAV and Gung-Ho quickly got out, running toward the SUV with his M-16 held tight against his shoulder. Pedestrians ran screaming, and Gung-Ho bellowed at anyone standing nearby to get away.

One of the SUV's doors flopped open and a man crawled from the wrecked truck on his hands and knees. His forehead was smeared with blood, and he glared up at Gung-Ho, breathing heavily.

"Don't you move!" Gung-Ho bellowed, putting the man in his sights. "Put your hands where I can see them!"

The man managed to get to his feet, halfway concealed behind the door, wavering unsteadily. He grimaced and then swung his arm up, opening fire with an Uzi.

Gung-Ho squeezed the trigger and opened up with a burst of three loud shots. The door window shattered and the man jerked backwards, staggering back and slumping against the side of the truck. He fell to his side and the gun slipped from his hand.

Gung-Ho remained in position for a moment and then lowered his gun. He looked down to see a tiny indentation in the front of his body armor, along his ribs, just underneath his heart. He took a deep breath, wincing in pain a bit, and touched the little hole, feeling the mangled bullet embedded there.

"Little bugger got me," he said to himself.

"You okay?" Heavy Duty called out.

"Yeah," Gung-Ho called back.

He walked forward and raised his gun again, keeping it aimed at the vehicle in case someone else tried to get out. His booted feet crunched on the bits of broken glass scattered everywhere as he approached the vehicle. He kicked the Uzi away from the man's body and looked down at him, then glanced into the front seat of the truck. The driver was hanging upside down from his seatbelt, unconscious. The passenger in the front seat was lying in a heap on the inside of the roof, having not worn his seatbelt.

Gung-Ho kneeled down at the man he'd shot and carefully pulled back his sleeve. There was a large red Cobra symbol tattooed on the man's bicep.

Police sirens could be heard in the distance as Gung-Ho stood up slowly, his gun hanging at his side. He looked around at the wreckage surrounding him and shook his head. All around him he could see people peeking out of storefront windows and from behind cars, excitedly babbling into cell phones. The entire intersection was now stuck in gridlock, with cars backed up for over a block.

"I don't think Hawk is gonna like this," Gung-Ho muttered.


	18. Chapter Seventeen

_Okay, this is the full version of this chapter. I rewrote a bit of the beginning, so you might as well read the whole chapter over. I have the next chapter started already and should get it done for next weekend (I might even have two chapters done by then). Things are going really good, and I hope everyone still likes the story so far._

Chapter Seventeen

Halfway across the city from where the GI Joe team was dealing with the aftermath of their shoot-out, a red and black Honda CBR 1000RR Fireblade motorcycle rolled down the busy street, its engine growling loudly, weaving in between cars. The driver, dressed in white and wearing a white helmet, hunched over the handlebars and steered the motorcycle up a short driveway and onto the sidewalk.

There was a nondescript four-story tall office building with nothing but an address number displayed above the large front doors. People shuffled through the doors, suit-and-tie businessmen carrying black briefcases, secretaries and office assistants rushing out for their lunch hour, middle-aged security guards doing their rounds. It was almost indistinguishable from the hundreds of other busy office buildings that lined the streets of New York.

The motorcycle rider drove behind the office building and down a long alley. He pulled into an underground parking area beneath the building, bypassing the security guards posted there without them even giving him a second look.

He parked the motorcycle, swinging the kick stand down. He pulled off his helmet and set it down on top of the handlebars. It was the ninja known as Storm Shadow, but the men working here on the surface didn't know his name at all. They only knew that he had free reign of the building and his orders were to be followed.

Storm Shadow walked through the brightly-lit parking area, past a line of black trucks and plain sedans, and went to the freight elevator at the far end of the parking area. He swung closed the large fence door and pushed the lever down. With a groan, the elevator jerked to life and began to descend.

Storm Shadow could practically hear Cobra Commander screaming before he even got off the elevator. When the doors opened, he could hear shouts echoing faintly off the metal walls of the underground facility. Trying to suppress a smile on his face, he strode down the hall toward the main room, walking past the armed guards.

As he walked into the room, he watched as Cobra Commander swung his arm out and backhanded one of the guards, his gloved hand smacking against the lower mouthplate of the guard's helmet. The guard reeled backward.

"They knew they were being followed!" the Commander bellowed. "Even an idiot would have known that! You should have suspected it as soon as they got off the freeway!"

"But sir," the guard mumbled feebly. "How could they have known?"

"Because our men must have given themselves away! They probably followed too closely!"

"If those military officers knew we were following them," the guard said carefully, "then why didn't they try to lose us in traffic? They had every opportunity to get away."

"Because they wanted to lead us into a trap, you moron!"

Storm Shadow folded his hands in front of him and cleared his throat. Cobra Commander swung to face him and pointed at him furiously. "And where in the hell have you been? We have a situation here!"

"I know," Storm Shadow said calmly.

"Our whole operation here has been compromised!" Cobra Commander shrieked. "By tomorrow, this place will be crawling with police!"

"Our men won't tell the police anything," Storm Shadow said.

"I know that!" the Commander snapped. "They'll figure it out eventually. Those trucks are registered to this company, remember? And once they learn their identities, they'll track us down soon enough."

"You knew we would have to abandon this facility soon anyway," Storm Shadow reminded him calmly.

"But not this soon! We still have more serum to produce, and moving all the production equipment will take days."

Cobra Commander took a deep breath, his raspy voice making it sound like a growl. He waved his arm dismissively, and the guard he had been screaming at gratefully left the room with his tail between his legs. The Commander then stepped to his throne and took a seat, regaining his composure.

"All right," he said. "So we move our plan forward. I don't want to leave anything behind here, is that understood? All the necessary equipment and all our men must be out of here in 36 hours and taken to my town. Contact Major Bludd and let him know we'll be there ahead of schedule."

Storm Shadow nodded. "Of course."

"Where were you earlier?"

"I followed our men after they left. I wanted to keep an eye on them."

"What?" Cobra Commander asked. "Why didn't you tell me about this?"

"You were busy," Storm Shadow said with a shrug. "I thought it was a bad idea to send our men in the first place. But Mindbender insisted on it."

"Yes, Mindbender," the Commander grumbled. "Where is he right now?"

"I'm not sure. I believe he already left the Institute. He's probably on his way here."

"Okay, I'll deal with him later. So tell me what happened."

"I followed our men the whole time. The men who visited Mindbender picked up the tail right away and led our men right into a trap, as you suspected. They didn't notice me, though. I stayed until after the police showed up."

"And no one noticed you?"

"No, there was a big crowd of people watching. I got a good look at them."

"So who are they?" Cobra Commander asked.

"I'm not sure. Only one of them had a military uniform on, and he was an Army General. Most of the others were in civilian clothes. But they had some serious hardware. They had a vehicle called an MPAV, and it's still in the testing stages last time I checked. It's not officially in use at all."

"Interesting," the Commander said. It was a bit of an understatement.

"We can track them though," Storm Shadow said. "I placed a tracking device on the MPAV, so we can see where it goes."

"Exactly how did you manage that?"

"Like I said, there was a huge crowd of people. I just walked right up with the crowd and stuck it under the rear bumper. No one paid any attention to me."

Cobra Commander laughed. "Wonderful. Maybe you can pay them a visit tonight. Sending men after them was a mistake, but we have to find out what they know about our organization."

"Yes, of course."

One of the guards walked into the doorway and nodded toward the Commander. "Sir, the doctor is here and wishes to see you."

"Mindbender," Cobra Commander snapped, standing up and walking away from the throne. "He doesn't have to come here. I think I'll go and see him directly."

"What do you want me to do for now?" Storm Shadow asked.

"Start planning our evacuation. Get the men ready and then call Major Bludd. If you get a location for those military investigators, let me know right away."

They both left the room in a hurry, and the guard who had announced Mindbender's arrival stood in the doorway for a few seconds, watching them go. He walked down the hall after Storm Shadow but did not follow him. Instead, the guard walked casually into one of the large rooms lined with occupied beds, looking around to see if anyone was inside.

The room was empty except for the men sleeping soundly on the beds. The guard, letting his gun hang at his side, walked between the two rows of beds.

He lifted the faceplate for his helmet and gazed down at the sleeping men, his eyes tinted purple with colored contacts. He scanned the room, taking in every detail, and reached into a pocket to take out a tiny digital camera.

He snapped a few photos, glancing back toward the door a few times to make sure no one was coming. He tucked the camera away and walked to one of the unoccupied beds. He picked up the pair of headphones sitting on the bed and pressed play on the CD player attached to them.

Lifting the headphones to his ear, he heard a calm, soothing voice. "Cobra wants to help you. Cobra is dedicated to helping people, and we need your help to make our dreams a reality. We need to fight for our rights, and Cobra helps you win that fight. Cobra is a wonderful place to work. We treat people with respect. We are very happy you have chosen to work for Cobra, and with your help, we can make the world a better place. Cobra wants to help you ..."

He set the headphones down with a concerned expression on his face, and opened up the CD player, taking the CD out and sticking it into his pocket as well. And then he lowered his helmet again, gripped his gun, and walked out of the room.

Fifteen minutes later, Zartan was out of the building and on his way to the M.A.R.S. compound.


	19. Chapter Eighteen

_Okay, here's the new chapter this week. I kind of rushed it, so the second half might seem a bit more choppy than usual. I wanted to get some more interaction with the members of the Joe team. The next chapter will pick up the action again._

Chapter Eighteen

Scarlett braced herself and launched into a forward spin kick, her bare foot swinging right over Snake Eyes' head as he ducked underneath and rolled to the side. He swung his open palm at her and she blocked him with her elbow before switching her stance and aiming a kick at his ribs. He deftly dodged and swung his arm down at her shoulder.

She blocked his attack and swung at his face, but Snake Eyes seemed to slide around her fist like a magnet pushing away from another magnet of the opposite polarity. Every time she tried to hit him, he slipped away as if surrounded by a force field. Like her, he wore a blue foam helmet to protect his head, but he still wore his facemask and goggles. Foam gloves like boxing gloves were on his hands.

He backpedaled on the blue practice mat and then lunged forward with a blinding sequence of punches and karate chops, his hands moving like a blur. Scarlett smacked his hands away and blocked most of the moves, but one punch got through, clipping her on the shoulder. She spun around with the momentum and her leg swung out again, but Snake Eyes had already dodged out of reach.

He moved so _fast_. Scarlett had never seen someone who could move so fast. And his fighting style was like a combination of several other disciplines; Scarlett noticed bits and pieces of Judo, Tae Kwon Do, Karate, and other martial arts all mixed together. He was not an expert in any single discipline, but he knew so much that he was able to constantly alter his fighting style to match whatever Scarlett could throw against him.

She was already covered in a sheen of sweat, her blue t-shirt sticking to her back, her breath coming in gasps. Strands of her long red hair stuck to her forehead. Meanwhile, Snake Eyes didn't seem to even be winded yet, but it was hard to tell with him.

They circled each other for a few moments, giving Scarlett time to catch her breath. Other members of the GI Joe team watched them from the edge of the practice mat, their attention fixed, as if they had money on the outcome of the sparring match. Scarlett wondered if maybe some of them did.

Snake Eyes charged her and launched into a roundhouse kick. Scarlett backed away as his foot swung by, inches from her face, and then she jumped up as he continued around in a circle, his leg swinging out in a sweep kick. As he returned to a standing position, Scarlett jumped in, aiming a punch at the center of his chest before he could switch to a new stance.

He grabbed her arm, letting her momentum bring her forward, and effortlessly spun her around, flipping her onto her back. She hit the mat hard, the breath whooshing from her lungs, and lay there for a moment, gasping for breath.

She wearily reached into her mouth to pull out her plastic mouth guard. Her arms flopped to her sides. "Okay," she panted. "I'm done."

Snake Eyes appeared over her and extended his hand. Scarlett took it and allowed herself to be lifted to her feet, still breathing heavily. She patted Snake Eyes on the shoulder and shook her head, pulling on the velcro straps of her helmet.

She yanked off the helmet and shook her head to get her hair out of her face. "Maybe next time," she said with a weary smile.

Snake Eyes nodded knowingly and gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. She walked from the practice mat and picked up her towel, draping it around her neck. She was tired, drenched in sweat, and in desperate need of a shower.

"What do you think?" Gung-Ho said to Short Fuse, who stood next to him. "He's pretty good, but I think I can take him."

Snake Eyes pointed at Gung-Ho and then at the mat in front of him.

"I think he's calling you out," Short Fuse said.

Gung-Ho considered it and then shook his head. "Nah, I think I'll pass."

Scarlett laughed as she walked off toward the showers. "Good idea."

"I just don't want to bruise him all up," Gung-Ho said. "That's all."

Snake Eyes stalked around the mat like a caged lion, waiting impatiently for an opponent to challenge him. Gung-Ho, Short Fuse, Heavy Duty, and Clutch stood around the practice area, looking at each other uncertainly.

When Scarlett was out of sight, Gung-Ho hooked him thumb in her direction. "Beating up on a defenseless woman like that. He should be ashamed of himself."

Clutch looked over at him. "I don't know, man. I think she can take care of herself pretty good. She would have kicked my butt, that's for sure. I don't know any of that ninja stuff."

Heavy Duty cracked his knuckles and reached for a foam helmet and gloves, sitting on a bench right by the practice mat. "Alright, I guess I'll give it a shot," he said, pulling on the gloves.

Duke came from the hallway, and Gung-Ho immediately walked over to him. "What does Hawk say?" he asked. "Are we going to have trouble with the police?"

"No," Duke said with a shake of his head. "Hawk has smoothed things over with the NYPD. You guys are working under the orders of the Pentagon, so there's no reason to worry. Hawk was actually very pleased at how quickly you took care of the situation."

"It could have been lots worse, that's true," Gung-Ho said. "We didn't have any civilian injuries, thank God."

"If there had been civilians injured, we'd certainly be having a different conversation," Duke admitted. "But even then, you would not be held responsible, any more than police officers are held responsible in situations like this."

"That's a relief. So what about those Cobra guys? They ain't talking yet?"

"Not yet. The three survivors were sent to the hospital, but only one of them has woken up so far, and he's not talking to anyone."

"So we have no idea where they came from?"

"Not yet," Duke said. "But we're working on it."

Heavy Duty, meanwhile, walked into the center of the practice mat and pounded a gloved fist into his other hand. He moved his head around, stretching the muscles in his neck, and faced Snake Eyes. He towered over him, looking down on Snake Eyes like Goliath against David.

"Alright, man. You're move."

Snake Eyes nodded and rushed at Heavy Duty, jumping into the air with his leg outstretched. Heavy Duty lifted his arms in defense and staggered back as Snake Eyes kicked him directly in the chest. He lumbered forward, swinging his arm down, and Snake Eyes leaped out of the way, rolling sideways to his feet. Heavy Duty punched at him and Snake Eyes used both his arms to block the strike. Jumping in, he struck Heavy Duty in the stomach and then swung an uppercut at his chin.

Heavy Duty turned his head to the side and the uppercut glanced off the side of his foam helmet. He swung his arm up and struck Snake Eyes right in the chest, knocking him off balance. With his other arm, Heavy Duty grabbed Snake Eyes by the neck and lifted him up. Snake Eyes swung up and slammed both feet directly into Heavy Duty's chest.

The two of them flew away from each other, Heavy Duty reeling backwards, gasping for air, and Snake Eyes falling to the mat and quickly doing a backwards somersault to return to his feet.

Everyone was on the sidelines, cheering them on. "You almost had him!" Gung-Ho laughed.

Snake Eyes shook his head as if trying to clear it, and then came running at Heavy Duty again, launching into a series of rapid punches. Heavy Duty blocked them, his huge arms able to take the hits easily, but he stepped backwards under the assault. When Snake Eyes retreated a moment, Heavy Duty threw several punches, which Snake Eyes dodged expertly, swinging his fist in to strike Heavy Duty right in the gut. Heavy Duty groaned and doubled over, and Snake Eyes jumped up in a roundhouse kick.

He got Heavy Duty right in the side of the head, and he fell down like a tree, slamming into the mat and rolling onto his back.

Gung-Ho turned away and covered his eyes with his hand. "Oh, man that had to hurt!"

Heavy Duty pulled off his helmet and let Snake Eyes pull him to his feet. He spit out his mouth guard and lifted his hand to his head.

"I sure am glad you weren't doing that for real," he said with a short chuckle. He began to tug off his boxing gloves. "I know you pulled that last kick. You probably would have knocked my head clean off if you were actually hitting me as hard as you could."

Snake Eyes nodded in agreement and then took off his helmet and gloves as well, signaling that he was done for the night.

Short-Fuse walked over to Duke. "What do you say, Hauser? Want to do some sparring and let me beat you up for a little while?"

"No, thanks," Duke said with a sarcastic smile, crossing his arms. "I don't want to mess up my hair. I have a hot date tonight."

"Of course you do. I bet all the ladies love you, Hauser."

Duke laughed. "You always call me Hauser. You know you're the only one who does that? Are you ever going to call me Duke?"

"When we're on a mission I will," Short Fuse said with a shrug. "But as long as we're here at the base, I'll always call you Hauser."

"Any particular reason?"

"Because you aren't the Duke," Short Fuse said. "John Wayne is the Duke, and no one else can have that name but him. You don't come across as a Duke, it just doesn't sound right."

"If you say so," Duke said.

Short Fuse gave a rare smile. "You'll always be Hauser to me."


	20. Chapter Nineteen

_Okay everyone, I'm back after my short break with the rest of this chapter. Hopefully you all didn't mind me taking some time off, but I really needed to recharge my batteries. I know I left you with quite a cliffhanger last time, so I hope the rest of this chapter lives up to your expectations. I think I should be able to update roughly every week or so like I did before, there won't be any more long breaks like this. I think the story is going pretty good so far. I'm not sure how many more chapters there are going to be, but we're at least halfway through the story according to my notes. Hope you like the rest of the chapter and I'll get the next one up next week._

Chapter Nineteen

Hawk set the phone down and leaned back in his chair, taking a relieved breath. It had been a long, aggravating day, but thankfully it was almost over. "Okay, we finally have something," he said. "They ran the license plates on those trucks."

"So we have names?" Stalker asked, sitting in a chair across from Hawk's desk. No one else was in the office, and only a few other Joe team members remained in the Pit this late in the evening.

"No, we have a company," Hawk said. "The trucks were registered to a marketing agency in New York. Their main office is only a few blocks from the neurological institute we visited."

"Well, isn't that an interesting coincidence?"

"Yes," Hawk said. "Although I'm not really sure exactly what it means. How could a company like that be involved? It doesn't make any sense."

"Maybe the trucks were stolen?"

"Doesn't seem that way."

"What about the Cobra agents?"

"They haven't said a single word," Hawk said exasperatedly. "As soon as they woke up in the hospital, they clammed right up. The police can't get any information out of them. They just refuse to talk."

"Do we even know who they are?"

"Not yet. The police took fingerprints, but they won't get results until tomorrow at the earliest. Their fingerprint lab is months behind schedule."

Stalker shook his head slowly and thought about it. "Well, that doesn't leave us with much to work with. What's the plan of action, then?"

Hawk leaned forward and put his elbows on the desk, folding his hands. "First thing tomorrow, we're heading to that marketing agency with a team of FBI agents and putting the place on lockdown until we find out what's going on," he said. "It seems to me that someone at that company works for Cobra, and they managed to get access to those trucks. We just have to find out who it is, and hopefully they'll lead us in the right direction."

"Alright then," Stalker said, getting up. "Is the whole team going to be a part of this?"

"Yes, I want everyone here tomorrow morning."

"Okay, I'll take care of it." Stalker stretched his arms to the ceiling and yawned loudly. "I think I'm going to head home now. I need to get some sleep."

"I'll be right behind you," Hawk said. "I have to make a few more calls first."

"I'm glad you're the commander of this team," Stalker chuckled. "I hate talking on the phone. I'm glad you do all that sort of thing."

"You'll get promoted to General one of these days, Stalker. And then you'll be on the phone just as much as me."

"Man, I hope not."

They laughed and Stalker headed out of the office. "See you tomorrow, Clay."

"Have a good night, Stalker."

Stalker walked down the hallway and headed to the main command area of the Pit. The place was quiet now, as most of the team had gone home for the night already. Snake Eyes and Breaker were still there, or at least Stalker thought they were, but everyone else was gone. Breaker seemed content to stay in the computer area and work online most of the night, and Snake Eyes didn't really have a home to go to. He was probably in the practice area working out.

Stalker walked out into the command area and glanced toward the computers, but Breaker wasn't there, and all the computer monitors were turned off. He must have gone home too.

As he approached the elevator, Stalker glanced at his watch. He would have to be up early in order to get the team ready and tried to estimate how much sleep he was going to get. Ever since he had climbed the ranks and gotten a post in Washington, he had been able to get plenty of sleep on a regular basis, the kind of luxury he could not afford back when he was still commanding troops in the field.

The elevator opened and he stepped inside, pressing the button for the main floor. He sighed and stuck his hands in his pockets as the elevator rose. When it reached the main floor, the doors opened with a click and Stalker looked up and took a step forward.

He barely had time to react as someone rushed into the elevator and slammed into him, knocking him back into the wall. Something stabbed into his stomach and he tried to cry out, but the intruder slapped a hand across his mouth and pressed him against the wall. His gun was holstered at his right hip, but his right arm was pinned in between the two of them. His left arm flailed uselessly against the intruder, who was dressed in all white, including a white hood and face mask. The long wakizashi blade in his hand was currently stabbed into Stalker's stomach all the way up to the handle.

Pain erupted across Stalker's torso and seemed to creep up his spine, the agonizing sensation making it hard for him to think straight. He gasped for breath, the intruder's hand tight across his mouth, and stared hard at the man's face, which was only a few inches from his own. Only the intruder's eyes were visible above the mask.

Their eyes locked, and a flash of recognition came across Stalker, who stared in stunned disbelief. The man in white braced himself and moved his mouth closer to Stalker's ear.

"I could kill you right now," Storm Shadow whispered. "But today is your lucky day. I don't want to kill you."

Very carefully, Storm Shadow pulled his arm back, sliding the wakizashi free of Stalker's body, the short blade smeared with blood. All he had to do was move the blade sideways and cut through the side of Stalker's body, and it would have killed him instantly. But instead, the ninja pulled the blade out precisely, leaving nothing more than a tiny cut barely an inch long. A widening circle of red began to spread across the front of Stalker's shirt.

Stalker groaned in agony and felt his legs give out from under him. But Storm Shadow held him fast, and he remained standing, but just barely. It felt like his insides were on fire, and he tried to focus, sweat pouring down his face.

"You'll live, if they find you quickly enough," Storm Shadow said. "If they don't, then you'll bleed to death. You better hope they find you."

He lifted his arm and then swung down hard, cracking the handle of his sword against Stalker's temple. He quickly backed away, and Stalker crumped to the floor of the elevator, unconscious. Blood began to pool around the wound.

Storm Shadow checked the controls and pressed a button, and the doors slid closed. When they opened again, he looked out at the command center of the Pit. He looked to the left and right, and seeing no one there, walked out, his blood-stained sword still in his hand. Blood dripped from the edge of the blade onto the gray carpet. Somewhere nearby, he could hear a voice.

He moved silently across the entrance and through the computer area, glancing around at all the blank computer screens and advanced computer equipment. He could hear someone talking, and followed the voice to some offices off to the right of the computer area. Storm Shadow paused and looked around, but there was no one else anywhere near him. He silently walked toward the offices, seeing a man talking on the phone.

"Yes, we're going to need as many as you can spare. I want every exit covered," Hawk said, leaning back in his chair. His desk faced sideways, and as he talked he casually looked at the far wall of his office, not watching the open door. "No later than nine o'clock. We'll need local departments involved in this too. Police to direct traffic, that sort of thing. Yes, I'd appreciate that."

On the far wall of Hawk's office were several framed documents, awards and commendations he had received in his long military career. As Storm Shadow moved silently to the doorway, Hawk caught a glimpse of his reflection in one of the pictures.

He turned and immediately jumped from his chair as Storm Shadow slashed down with his katana blade, slicing right through the top of his desk chair. Hawk tumbled to the floor and fumbled with the gun at his hip. As Storm Shadow tried to slash at him again, he swung up and fired twice, the bullets going over Storm Shadow's head and striking the ceiling.

There was the pounding of footsteps, and Storm Shadow spun around, swinging up his blade just as Snake Eyes leaped through the doorway, his own katana blade extended. The two swords slid against each other with a shrill scraping sound and then parted. Storm Shadow backed up and parried another thrust from Snake Eyes before swinging down in an overhead slash, which Snake Eyes blocked skillfully. They faced each other for a brief second before Storm Shadow launched into another furious attack, his blade whistling through the air. Snake Eyes dodged to the side and slashed sideways, and Storm Shadow had to alter his attack in order to block the thrust. The two of them spun around each other as gracefully as a pair of trained ballet dancers, changing positions in the narrow office without either sword managing to touch its target. The swords whipped through the air so fast that the blades were invisible.

Hawk crawled up and hit the alarm on his desk. He raised his gun but couldn't shoot because Snake Eyes was in the way.

The two ninjas' swords clashed again and they pressed against each other, the handles touching, their faces mere inches apart. Storm Shadow stared at his opponent's masked face and suddenly, his eyes opened a bit wider.

Snake Eyes pushed him off and kicked forward, slamming his foot right into Storm Shadow's sternum. The ninja in white flew through the doorway, crashing to the floor and doing a backwards somersault to get back to his feet. He brought his sword up just as Snake Eyes leaped at him, and their swords clanged loudly off each other. Storm Shadow had to retreat back as Snake Eyes went on the offensive, his blade swinging down over and over. Each attack was blocked, but the frenzy of the attack wore down Storm Shadow's guard.

They fought through the computer area, and Storm Shadow stumbled into one of the computer chairs. He lost his balance for just a moment, and Snake Eyes charged him. He slammed his sword into Storm Shadow's guard, and the other blade went flying from its owner's grasp. Now defenseless, Storm Shadow jumped forward, grabbing Snake Eyes' sword arm, keeping the weapon held in the air above them.

Storm Shadow braced himself and pushed hard, his hands locked on Snake Eyes' arm and the handle of the sword. Snake Eyes held fast, but was off balance, and had to move backwards to keep from being pushed over. Storm Shadow slammed him back against one of the long computer desks and slammed his wrist down on the glass partition between the computer stations. The edge of the glass did not cut into Snake Eyes' wrist, but it nearly broke it, and he was forced to let go of the sword. Storm Shadow let go with one hand and immediately clamped down on Snake Eyes' throat, forcing him down onto the desk.

Snake Eyes' one hand was immobilized, but with his other hand he pulled back and slammed his fist as hard as he could right into Storm Shadow's stomach. The ninja groaned and gritted his teeth, but did not move. Snake Eyes pounded again and again into Storm Shadow's gut and finally he weakened his grip. Snake Eyes grabbed his collar and pulled him closer, then jerked forward and slammed his forehead right into Storm Shadow's face.

The ninja in white staggered backwards, stars spinning in his vision, and Snake Eyes kicked out, striking him in the ribs. As Storm Shadow stumbled away, wincing in pain, Snake Eyes managed to get up, gasping for breath, his wrist aching and sore. He ran straight at his opponent and launched into a series of fast punches. Storm Shadow easily defended against them, his own hands flashing through the air, deftly deflecting each of Snake Eyes' attacks. The two of them danced across the computer area, trading blows.

Hawk finally ran out of his office and aimed his gun at the pair. "Snake Eyes! Get out of the way!"

Storm Shadow immediately twirled around, keeping Snake Eyes between them, and then aimed a jump kick right at Snake Eyes' head. He dodged the kick, but even before Storm Shadow hit the ground he was already aiming his next strike. Snake Eyes blocked two more punches before one slipped past his guard, and Storm Shadow's fist slammed right into his neck. He staggered back, choking and gasping for air, trying to defend against a rapid blur of kicks and punches. Storm Shadow almost easily swung his leg up and slammed it right into his opponent's stomach, and when he doubled over, the ninja swung his other leg up to smash him in the face with his knee.

Snake Eyes reeled backward and tried to regain his balance, rushing forward with a fist aimed at Storm Shadow's face. The ninja easily dodged it and slammed his elbow into Snake Eyes' shoulder , knocking him off-balance again. Storm Shadow laughed as his spun around, planting a vicious spin-kick right into the center of Snake Eyes' chest.

The kick knocked the wind right out of him and he sailed backward, crashing into another of the glass partitions. The glass shattered as he went through it, and he flipped over the desk and crumpled to the floor.

Hawk pulled the trigger and three rapid gunshots echoed in the computer area. Storm Shadow jumped out of the way, the bullets hitting nothing but empty air.

He ran out in to the open area near the entrance and pulled a small metal spike from the back of his belt. He swung it up into the ceiling, where it stuck. A red light on its handle began to blink.

He raised his arms and backed away toward the elevator as Hawk ran out into the open area and aimed his gun. "Don't move!" he barked. "Stay right there!"

Storm Shadow did as he was told and stood perfectly still. The metal spike was directly above Hawk's head, and its red light began to flash faster.

Before Hawk could react, Snake Eyes jumped out and slammed right into him, knocking him out of the way. The two of them fell to the floor and Snake Eyes rolled them both under one of the tables.

The ceiling exploded in a huge burst of debris and smoke, the shockwave blasting into them and the whole Pit rattling with the thudding impact. Chunks of ceiling tile, wood and insulation, and bits of glass and plaster rained down on them, the table cracking in half as a huge wooden beam smashed down on it. The spot where Hawk had been standing was now covered in rubble, and directly above it was a huge gaping hole in the ceiling. Wires hung from the destroyed ceiling and the entire area filled with smoke.

Storm Shadow leaped up on top of the pile of debris and shouted, "Until next time, Snake Eyes!" He soared up into the air, grabbed a hold of the edge of the hole, and pulled himself up and out of sight.

Snake Eyes rolled to the side and tried to get up, but he could barely catch his breath. Hawk crawled out from under the table and looked down at him.

"Jesus, Snake Eyes, are you all right?"

Snake Eyes could only manage to shake his head.

"Okay, listen. Help will be here soon. I hit the alarm. Just stay here, I have to try to go after him."

Hawk got up on wobbly legs, dizzy from the shockwave, and ran over to the elevator. He hit the button and the doors opened up.

Stalker's body was still there, the puddle of blood underneath him much wider than before. Hawk decided that he wouldn't be able to chase after the intruder after all. There were more important things to take care of. He waited in the elevator with Stalker until help arrived, four minutes later.


	21. Chapter Twenty

_Okay, here is the new chapter this week. Don't forget that I also updated the previous chapter last week as well, so check it out if you haven't read it yet. The story is finally starting to head towards the big finale, so I hope everyone likes how things are going so far.  
_

Chapter Twenty

"I think he's going to be just fine," the doctor said, wiping his glasses on his shirt. "The sword didn't cut into any of his internal organs, although I'm not sure how. Whoever stabbed him must have been a surgeon to make such a precise cut."

Hawk let out a long sigh and slumped into a chair outside the medical bay, rubbing his eyes wearily. It was four o'clock in the morning, and he had been up all night so far. The other members of the Joe team had already been called in, and both Duke and Gung-Ho were there with him as well. Inside one of the recovery rooms, Stalker was lying on a bed, a bandage wrapped around his torso. He was out of harm's way, but he was still unconscious.

"Will there be any long-term damage?" Duke asked, looking in at Stalker.

The doctor, a middle-aged black man wearing a beige shirt and pants, shook his head and returned his glasses to his face. "No, I don't believe so. He'll be in some pain for awhile, of course, until he heals. But other than that, he should be okay."

"How did this happen, Hawk?" Gung-Ho asked. "How in the hell did somebody break into the Pit? I thought this place was supposed to be a secret."

"I wish I knew," Hawk said exasperatedly. "I don't understand how he found us. He must have been waiting outside that elevator for who knows how long. He was just waiting for someone to leave. It could have been any one of us to get attacked."

"And why did he leave Stalker alive? I mean, he could have killed him, right?"

"He certainly wanted to kill me," Hawk said. "I'm sure of that."

Gung-Ho grunted and crossed his arms. "This don't make any sense."

"We have to assume that ninja worked for Cobra," Duke said. "And he followed us here from New York. This doesn't really change our plans at all, though. If anything it only makes it more urgent for us to act now. We have to get the team together and go back to New York as soon as we can."

"Yes, of course," Hawk said. "Why don't you go and let everyone know? I need a few minutes to rest."

Duke patted him on the shoulder. "Maybe you should try to catch a couple hours of sleep. I'll take care of things."

As Duke and Gung-Ho walked away, Hawk sighed again and said to the doctor, "Thank you, Carl. And thanks for coming so quickly. I really appreciate it."

The doctor, an Army medic named Carl Greer, smiled and said, "It's no problem, Clay. You know I'm always available to help."

"We could use a full-time medical officer on the Joe team, if you're interested."

"I'll have to think about that."

Duke and Gung-Ho headed back to the main section of the Pit, where Short Fuse, Clutch, and Shipwreck were standing around, inspecting the damage left by the explosion. Rubble and debris were scattered all over the floor, and everything was covered in a layer of dust. Most of the equipment near the explosion was completely wrecked, and repairing the damage would take weeks. Breaker was already at work at one of the computers that remained undamaged and was busily trying to access the security footage, but so far they had no clear images of the intruder..

"Clutch," Duke said, "Do we have any scanning equipment for detecting radio devices or anything like that?"

"I don't know, but I can go check," Clutch said quickly, eager to be doing something constructive.

"If we have one, scan all of our equipment that we took to New York. Scan the vehicles and see of there's any kind of tracking devices. I think that's how that guy found us."

"Alright, I'll get right to it," Clutch said, and he was off in a flash.

"What about us?" Shipwreck asked. "We're still investigating that company, right? Should we be getting ready?"

"Yes, we're leaving soon," Duke said. "But we still have work to do here. Shipwreck, can you help out Breaker for now? You have security experience, right?"

"Sure do."

"See if you can figure out how he snuck inside without getting picked up on our cameras. Maybe we have to rethink our security protocols. Let's see if we can stop this from happening again."

"You got it," Shipwreck said, and went over to help Breaker.

Duke turned to Short Fuse. "Is Heavy Duty still in the armory?"

"Yes," Short Fuse said. "Want me to help him?"

"I'd appreciate it."

"What are we packing? Do you expect any resistance when we get there?"

"Let's not take any chances. Get standard weapons, M-16s, the usual. If you want to pack some heavy artillery, I leave that up to you."

"You got it," Short Fuse said as he walked away. Then, he looked over his shoulder and added sarcastically, "Duke."

Gung-Ho chuckled as Short Fuse walked away, and he and Duke continued to the side offices. "You're getting better at giving orders," he remarked. "Maybe you'll become a good commander after all."

"I don't know about that," Duke said. "When Short Fuse starts to treat me with respect, I know something is wrong."

Scarlett and Snake Eyes were in Hawk's office. Scarlett examined the desk chair that the ninja had sliced a chunk from, shaking her head in disbelief. She ran her finger along the slice mark. "If Hawk hadn't seen him coming, he would have been killed. I don't understand why he only wounded Stalker, when he clearly wanted to kill Hawk."

"We're wondering that too," Duke said. He said to Snake Eyes, "Stalker is doing okay, the doctor said he'll recover just fine. He's not awake yet, but you can go see him if you want."

Snake Eyes immediately got up to leave the room. Before he left, Duke said, "Listen, you saved Hawk's life tonight. He's not going to forget about that. Don't blame yourself for letting the intruder get away, you did the best you could."

Snake Eyes paused a moment and nodded to show he understood, but Duke could tell by his posture that he was punishing himself for it anyway. Normally, Snake Eyes moved with confidence and a sense of stealth, like a tiger approaching a meal. But as he walked away from the office, his head was drooped and his shoulders were slumped, and he just clomped across the floor carelessly. Was he upset about letting the intruder get away, or just that the intruder had defeated him at all?

"Are we leaving soon?" Scarlett asked.

"Yes, as soon as we can," Duke said. "Hawk needs to get some rest first, so I'm going to arrange transport and get our contacts with the NYPD ready. I have to make some phone calls right now," he said, sounding annoyed about it. He took a seat at Hawk's desk and picked up the phone.

"Is there anything for me to do?" Scarlett asked.

"Why don't you go talk to your partner?" Gung-Ho suggested. "You seem to get along with him better than the rest of us, except for Stalker, of course. He needs to be at a hundred percent when we get to New York, so he can't be all depressed like he is now."

"No, I think we should let him deal with it by himself," Duke said. "I get the feeling that Snake Eyes wants to be left alone. Now that he knows Stalker is going to be okay, he should get back to normal by the time we leave."

"Yeah," Scarlett said. "I tried to talk to him earlier and he kind of brushed me off. I don't think he wants to talk about it."

"Actually, there is something you can do," Duke said, "We haven't found that ninja's sword yet. Hawk said that he dropped it during the fight, so its probably under a table or something. Can you find it? Be careful with it, maybe we can get fingerprints or something."

"Somehow I don't think a ninja would be careless enough to leave fingerprints on a potential murder weapon," Gung-Ho said.

"Well, we can always hope," Duke said.

Scarlett left the office and walked around, looking for the sword. As she walked past the computers, Breaker said, "Finally, we got him."

"I can't believe he snuck past all the cameras like that," Shipwreck said, looking over Breaker's shoulder.

Scarlett came over and looked at the computer screen. It showed the view from a camera out by the fences on the perimeter, facing the two main buildings on the surface. It was almost pitch black outside on the screen, but large floodlights illuminated the paved area in between the buildings, and Scarlett caught a flash of a white-clothed man sneaking along the perimeter of the camera's view. He just appeared at the corner of one of the buildings and slipped through the shadows.

"If he was wearing black, I'd probably have missed him," Breaker admitted. "Let me fast-forward to when he leaves."

The screen sped up for a minute and then returned to normal. For a second or two there was nothing on the screen, and then a flash of white zipped out of one of the side doors. He ran across the yard to one of the fences and leaped over it in one smooth motion, disappearing outside the fence.

"Man, that guy is good. This is the only camera we caught his image on. We're going to have to beef up our security. I'm thinking motion sensors upstairs."

"Sounds like a good idea," Shipwreck said.

Scarlett left them to debate security improvements, and looked around for the sword. She found a sword lying on the floor across from the other line of computer consoles, but it was Snake Eyes' sword, not the ninja's. He must have just left it there and not bothered to get it after the fight. Scarlett set the sword gently on one of the tables and kept looking.

She walked over to the conference area on the other side of the computer section and finally found the ninja's sword on the floor against the wall. She carefully picked it up and set it on the table as well. The long blade was still smeared with Stalker's blood, and Scarlett shivered to herself at the sight of it.

With the two swords side-by-side, she noticed that they were actually very similar. Of course, most katana swords look the same, but Scarlett could see more similarities than usual. The way the handles were wrapped, the style of the sword guard, even the design on the handle was the same. Scarlett peered down at the sword collar, the band of metal directly underneath the guard that fastened around the handle, and noticed an etching on both swords.

It was six parallel lines etched in red, all the same length, but the second and fourth lines were separated in the middle to form two smaller lines. Scarlett ran her finger along the lines and compared the two swords. They both bore the exact same etching.

It was a special mark of some kind, like a symbol for a school or maybe the symbol of the sword maker. It might have been the sign for a family as well.

Scarlett walked down to the medical bay to ask Snake Eyes about it. It certainly was a strange coincidence that both of their swords bad the exact same marking, but she didn't think much of it. It was probably just the maker's symbol, and since there were so few manufacturers of high quality katana blades, it wasn't impossible for both Snake Eyes and the other ninja to have the same kind.

When she reached the medical bay, she saw Snake Eyes kneeling over Stalker's bed, and Stalker talking to him. Neither of them noticed Scarlett as she came to his room, and as she opened the door, she heard the tail end of what he was saying.

"... don't know why, but he's not the person we used to know ..." Stalker said quietly as Scarlett came in.

"Hey! You're awake," she said, coming over to the bed. She put a hand on his arm and gave him a friendly squeeze. "I'd give you a hug, but I'm afraid to hurt you."

Stalker smiled weakly. "Yeah, I'm still a bit tender."

"You're lucky to be alive."

"Tell me about it."

"I'm sure Snake Eyes gave you the update already, but everyone else is fine."

"Yeah," Stalker said. "Hawk was here a minute ago talking to me. He told me what happened. Seems that things might have gone differently if Snake Eyes hadn't been here."

"Definitely," Scarlett agreed, looking over at Snake Eyes.

"We're still doing the raid on that company though, aren't we?" Stalker asked.

"Well, we are," Scarlett said. "But I don't think you're coming with us. Sorry, but we'll have to leave you behind this time."

"I understand," Stalker chuckled, and then winced a bit. "I'd probably just slow you down."

Just then, there was an announcement over the intercom system. It was Duke's voice. "Everyone please report to the briefing table. We have our mission ready, and we'll be leaving here in under an hour."

"I guess that means us," Scarlett said. "You're not going to be here all by yourself, are you?"

"No, Doctor Greer is staying with me," Stalker said. "And Hawk said we're getting some new security personnel to keep an eye on things while the rest of you are gone."

"Alright then, we'd better go," she said to Snake Eyes.

As they reported back to the command center, Scarlett got caught up in the details of the mission and totally forgot to ask Snake Eyes about the swords.


	22. Chapter TwentyOne

Chapter Twenty-One

A limousine pulled into the M.A.R.S. compound and up to the main gate. Armed guards at the entrance waved it through without stopping it. The limo drove around the main building and down a ramp into the underground parking area.

Destro folded up the newspaper he was reading and when the limo stopped, he opened the door and got out. He wore a sharp blue suit with gold cufflinks and a gold pin on his tie. He tucked the newspaper under his arm and walked to the elevator, his black leather shoes clicking on the paved parking area. More guards at the entrance and at the elevator nodded in greeting and Destro politely nodded back as he got into the elevator.

They had successfully shipped out the remaining order of weapons the night before, and had removed any trace of their presence, altering documents and editing security footage to make it seem as if the weapons had never been there. Of course, if the intruders the other night had taken photographs, which they almost certainly had, then their rush to remove the evidence would not be much use. But Destro already had a plan for that as well.

The elevator dinged open and he strode out into the hallway on the main floor. Some more employees greeted him as he made his way to his office. M.A.R.S. had office employees just like any other company, and a legion of paper-pushers and office temps scurried around in the downstairs office area. In their way, they were as important as his army of guards and soldiers, and Destro treated them as such.

One of his secretaries handed him a cup of coffee and a stack of reports and he headed up to his office on the second floor. He opened the door and looked inside to see the Baroness seated at his desk. She looked up and breathed a sigh of relief, getting up from his chair.

"I'm glad you're here," she said, sounding tired.

"Don't tell me we have more problems," Destro said calmly, walking over to the desk.

"No, just a visitor."

Zartan was seated at one of the chairs, smiling charmingly, one leg propped on the other. He was dressed in gray slacks and a green dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up. His wrists were adorned with bracelets of multicolored string. Today he sported blue eyes and long blonde hair in a greasy ponytail.

"Top o' the mornin' to ye," he said with a friendly grin, his voice lilted with a musical Irish accent.

"He insisted on coming in to wait for you," the Baroness explained, rubbing her eyes. "And I didn't want to leave him alone in here. I don't trust him."

Zartan looked genuinely shocked. "Don't trust me? Why would ye say somethin' like that, lass? I've been nothin' but a friend to ye."

Destro set his coffee and paperwork on the desk and took a seat. The Baroness went to leave, but Destro motioned for her to sit down. "You might as well stay," he said. "I have to talk to you anyway. And whatever Zartan has to say is your business as well as mine."

He leaned back and steepled his fingers, eyeing Zartan warily. Sometimes the master of disguise bothered him as well, although he hid it far better than Anastasia did. The man was incredibly useful when it came to gathering information, but Destro always wondered what information about M.A.R.S. Zartan was selling to his other customers, and Destro knew he had other customers. And Zartan's constant shifting of identity became tiresome. In four years, Destro had never seen what Zartan really looked like or what his natural speaking voice actually was. Destro wondered if Zartan even remembered at this point.

"So what information do you have for me?" he asked.

"Some really good stuff," Zartan chuckled. He took a folder from beside him and handed it over to Destro, who emptied its contents onto his desk. There was a small stack of glossy photographs and an unlabelled compact disc.

Destro scanned the pictures while sipping his coffee. They showed a large room with a number of hospital beds, most of which were occupied by men in white t-shirts and blue pants. There were also a few pictures of some kind of chemical apparatus and a few computer screens.

"So what am I looking at, exactly?"

"Ye wanted to know what Cobra was workin' on, didn't ye?" Zartan asked. "Well, that fella Mindbender's got a whole bunch of lads hooked up to some kinda drug. That's just one room I got some pictures of, but there was others."

"Really? What kind of drug?"

"Well, I did'na know at first, till I got a listen of that little disc there. Took it from one of the guys layin' in bed."

Destro, wishing Zartan had chosen a British accent instead of an Irish one, took the disc and slid it into the CD player built into his desk. The disc began to play, coming through the speakers in the wall, and a gentle feminine voice began to speak.

"Welcome to Cobra. You made a very good choice to join Cobra, because we need good people like you. Cobra can make the world a better place, and you can make the world a better place too. Cobra wants to help you. Cobra is dedicated to helping people, and we need your help to make our dreams a reality. We need to fight for our rights, and Cobra helps you win that fight. Cobra is a wonderful place ..."

"Interesting," Destro said. "Is the entire disc nothing but this?"

"Pretty much, it is," Zartan said. "But skip to the final track, that's the real special one."

Destro skipped forward and let the CD play. "Cobra wants to make the world a better place. And Cobra Commander is going to succeed, with your help. Cobra Commander is your leader and your friend. He wants to help you. Cobra Commander would do anything to help you, so you must do whatever you can to help him. You must do whatever Cobra Commander asks, because he knows what is best. Cobra Commander is your leader. If you follow Cobra Commander, you will be rewarded. You can ..."

"Please turn it off," the Baroness asked. "I think I'm going to be sick."

Destro ejected the disc and held it in his hand, seeing his reflection in the mirrored surface. "So, I take it Cobra has developed some kind of brainwashing program?"

Zartan nodded. "Aye, I think they have. All the men they had there were kinda dim, if ye know what I mean. Like they weren't all there."

"And Mindbender's drug must enhance the brainwashing?"

"It probably causes it," Zartan said. "Wipes their brain clean, and that little disc there fills in the blanks."

"Very interesting," Destro said. He looked at the disc again and then gently set it on his desk. His gaze returned to the photos. There didn't seem to be much of an operation to it; there were just some beds, the IV drip which probably contained the drug, and a walkman which played the CD.

"I know what you're thinkin'," Zartan said.

"Is that so?" Destro asked, not looking up at him. He flipped through the pictures again and then handed them over to the Baroness. "What am I thinking, Zartan?"

"You're thinkin' you want that drug for yourself, of course."

Destro pursed his lips and shook his head, leaning back in his chair. "No, Zartan, I'm afraid you're wrong on that count. I'm a weapons dealer, not a drug dealer."

The Baroness set the photos down. "This is bad, James. I don't like it at all."

"Neither do I."

"Oh, come on now," Zartan said, spreading his hands. "Ye can't be tellin' me that ye wouldn't love to get your hands on a drug like that."

"We don't know anything about it," Destro reminded him. "How it's used, how much it takes to work properly, how long it lasts. If it was easy to administer, then Cobra wouldn't need Mindbender, now would they?"

"It can't be that hard, I'm sure ye could figure it out."

Destro shook his head again. "I don't want anything to do with it."

"Ye could have an army of totally loyal men."

"I already have that," Destro remarked. "And I made them loyal the old-fashioned way, by paying them and making them respect me. I don't need to rely on some untested drug to make my troops loyal. It's immoral."

Zartan scoffed and shook his head incredulously. "I can't believe what I'm hearin'. Ye sell weapons to terrorists fer Christ's sake, and now ye want to talk about morality?"

The Baroness turned on him and snapped, "How dare you!"

Destro raised his hand and the Baroness immediately calmed, although she stared daggers at Zartan the whole time. Perhaps it was time to stop making use of Zartan's services after all, or else Destro might have to physically hold the Baroness back next time.

"Do you know why I sell weapons, Zartan? It's been a family business for centuries, you know. But do you know why my ancestors chose such an enterprise in the first place, and why I've followed in their footsteps?"

"I suppose because ye make a lot of money," Zartan said sarcastically.

"No, it's not the money," Destro answered calmly. "There are lots of ways to make money, even legal ways, that are easier and more effective than selling weapons. You see, my family began the tradition of selling weapons because they believed that a gun is the ultimate symbol of personal freedom. The first James McCullen sold weapons to the British during their Civil War in the 1640s, because he believed in their fight for freedom."

"He sold weapons to both sides, ye know."

"Yes, he did. Because fighting for what you believe in is one of the purest forms of personal freedom. My ancestors sold weapons for that reason and so do I. I believe that anyone should be able to fight for a cause, even a misguided one, and so I supply them with the means to do so. I sell weapons to those who cannot get them legally, because weapons are a tool for freedom and rebellion, and I believe anyone should have the opportunity to fight for those things. It's not just a source of income for me, it's a matter of personal beliefs."

When Zartan had no clever comment, Destro continued. "So do you understand why that drug is immoral? It's because it takes away freedom. It takes away free will."

"If ye say so," Zartan said noncommitally.

The Baroness glanced at the pictures one last time and put them on Destro's desk. "So what are we going to do about Cobra?"

Destro took another sip of his coffee. "There's not much we can do. We certainly can't call the police, now can we?"

Zartan suddenly laughed to himself. "Oh, I almost forgot to tell ye," he chuckled. "I don't think ye'll have to worry about callin' the police. I think Cobra will be receivin' a visit from them pretty soon anyway."

"What in the world are you talking about?"

"Did ye hear about the car chase and gunfight in the middle of New York yesterday?"

"I remember seeing something about it on the news."

"The fellas who got killed were Cobra agents," Zartan explained. "Seems the military is doin' some kind of investigation into Mindbender, and they linked him to Cobra somehow. I guess Mindbender got nervous and sent those men after them. The military found out they were bein' followed and the whole thing turned into a shoot-out right in downtown."

"How did you find out about it?"

"I overheard Cobra Commander talkin' about it with his ninja bodyguard. He was already makin' plans to abandon their whole base of operations there cause he expected the cops to show up any minute."

"Maybe that solves our problem," the Baroness suggested.

"I doubt it will be that easy," Destro said.

"Well, I've done my job, anyway," Zartan said, standing up. He raised his arms above his head and stretched. "I'll be takin' my leave now, unless ye have more work for me"

"No, you can go," Destro said. "I'll call you if I need you."

"Have a lovely day, beautiful," Zartan said to the Baroness on his way out. The door swung shut behind him with a click.

"He needs to work on his Irish accent," the Baroness said to herself.

"He has to work on a lot of things," Destro agreed.

"So what do you really plan to do?" the Baroness asked, now that the two of them were alone. She crossed her legs and put her hands in her lap.

"I think that Cobra has gone a bit too far," Destro said thoughtfully. "I don't mind selling them weapons, as long as they're using them of their own free will. But if their Commander is brainwashing his own troops, that's something else entirely."

"I don't think we can make a move against them right now. At least not until we're certain that we haven't been compromised."

"Yes, you're right. If we get involved in this, we risk further exposure. Maybe we should sit back for now and just see what happens."


	23. Chapter Twenty Two

_Sorry, this chapter is long and kind of talky. I could have just skipped this whole section and made up some reason that the Joe team figured it all out, but I didn't want to cheat with the narrative. I wanted to show how the Joe team works together and does their investigation, without resorting to some obvious mistake Cobra made that revealed their whole plan. I think this chapter helps develop the characters even further, but I admit it might be a little boring. Hopefully you all like it and leave lots of reviews (haha)._

Chapter Twenty-Two

The Arbco Marketing Firm was an advertising agency that produced a wide range of advertising copy and commercial production services. Inside their four-story New York headquarters, there were conference rooms full of executives planning and discussing commercial properties, offices full of advertising employees writing ad copy for any number of projects, and salesmen pitching a wide range of new products. In production studios on the third floor, paid actors were filming infomercials, salesmen were rewriting the scripts, and audiences were given free samples. Down on the first floor, cubicle farms were packed with customer service representatives talking with prospective customers, and telemarketers making thousands of phone calls a day. The entire building was filled with people advertising and selling products of all kinds.

At approximately 8:30 in the morning, right after most of their employees had arrived and started work, police sirens blared down the packed city street. All of a sudden, a dozen police cars screeched to a halt right in front of the building, their red and blue lights flashing. Right behind them, a dozen more black unmarked SUVs pulled up and federal agents poured out. Vehicles blocked the street and dozens of law enforcement officers ran around the building on all sides, stringing up yellow police tape. Pedestrians on the sidewalk gathered around and watched in surprise as officers entered the building, wielding warrants. More officers placed wooden barriers along the street, blocking traffic.

Two gray military MPAV Jeeps pulled up a few minutes later and maneuvered around the barricades. The doors opened up and the GI Joe team emerged from the two MPAVs. Hawk, Duke, Snake Eyes, Scarlett, Gung-Ho, Heavy Duty, Shipwreck, Breaker, Short Fuse, and Clutch walked to the building, and Hawk waved his military ID at the officers to let them inside. The only member of the team who was missing was Stalker, because he was still recovering at the Pit.

"Doesn't look like a terrorist headquarters to me," Gung-Ho said as they walked into the large, brightly-lit lobby. The floor was soft gray carpet, and the walls were lined with posters featuring advertising slogans and several framed documents awarding the company for outstanding service in the industry.

Beyond the main desk, there were several police officers holding back a crowd of nervous employees, talking and shouting and trying to be heard, asking what was going on and why they were not allowed to leave.

"Okay," Hawk said. "We're looking for evidence of Cobra's involvement in this company, and maybe even evidence that they were located here. We have law enforcement everywhere, so if there are any Cobra operatives here, they can't leave. The police are already conducting a search throughout the upper floors." He looked at Duke and nodded. "Okay, Duke. This is your show. You know more about Cobra than I do. How do you want to handle this?"

Duke stood in front of the others and folded his arms. "I don't think we'll get lucky enough to find the entire organization here. But someone working here gave those trucks to the men who attacked us. We need to find out what connection this company has to Cobra."

"So where do we look?" Shipwreck asked.

Duke said, "Breaker, you're the computer expert. Find yourself a computer with access to the entire company's files and look for any irregularities. Hijack the computer in the company president's office if you have to. There are already some computer experts working on it as well, so you're in charge of them."

Breaker snapped his gum. "Gotcha," he said, and went off to find a computer, like a bloodhound tracking a scent.

"Go with him, Clutch," Duke said. "They must have security cameras here. Start reviewing the footage from the other day and see if you can track where those men came from. If they were already in the building or if they came from somewhere else."

"Sure thing," Clutch said, and ran off after Breaker.

"Okay," Duke continued. "Hawk, Gung-Ho, and I are going to start talking to some of the upper management. We'll see if we can learn anything we don't already know."

"What if the guy working for Cobra isn't in upper management?" Scarlett asked. "He could be somebody in the mail room for all we know."

"I know," Duke agreed. "The FBI is already starting to go through the employee and personnel records. Some of the men who attacked us have been identified, so we're going to see if any of them worked here or used to work here. Shipwreck and Short Fuse, I want you to take over with that. You have the files on Cobra, maybe you can find something."

"It'll be like looking for a needle in a haystack," Short Fuse said simply.

"Then I guess we'll use a magnet," Shipwreck said. "Come on, Short Fuse. The sooner we get to work, the sooner we can find what we're looking for."

"Contact me with your walkies if you find anything," Duke said.

"So what about us?" Heavy Duty grumbled. "I hope you don't want me to start looking through files or something boring like that."

Duke managed a smile. "No, you get to do the fun job. I want you three to search through the building for anything out of the ordinary, anything that might be evidence that Cobra has connections with this company. Go to the parking area under the building first, that's probably the best place to start. Check the perimeter, see if there are any storage areas or back rooms where Cobra might want to hide something. We don't have any building blueprints unfortunately, so you'll have to just start looking. Start there and work your way up. The police are here to help us, of course, so they can assist you."

"I thought you said it was the fun job," Scarlett remarked.

"It is," Duke said with a smile. "I'd rather do that than interrogate a bunch of upper management guys. Besides, you and Snake Eyes are infiltration experts, you have an eye for this sort of thing."

"Alright," Scarlett said. "Let's get to it, then."

As everyone went their separate ways, Hawk said to Duke, "Did you have all that planned out before we got here?"

"No," Duke admitted. "I just sort of came up with it on the spot."

"Well, you did a good job there. I was wondering if we were all just going to stand around while the cops did all the work. It was a good idea to give everyone something important to do."

"I told him that he was getting good at giving orders," Gung-Ho chuckled.

They went upstairs and were directed to the office of the vice-president of the company, an overweight, middle-aged man with thinning hair and an expensive gray suit. Two FBI agents guarded his door as Hawk, Duke, and Gung-Ho made their way inside. The vice-president sputtered and demanded to know what was going on.

"I can assure you that nothing illegal is going on here!" he blurted. "I have no idea what you think you're looking for! And I don't have to tell you anything without my lawyers present!"

"Can I go help Snake Eyes and the others?" Gung-Ho muttered to Duke.

"Nope, I said they got to do the fun job. We get to do the crap job."

"Yeah, I understand that now."

Meanwhile, Breaker and Clutch were downstairs in one of the large computer rooms, already at work. There were half a dozen computer stations, and federal agents were seated at the others, starting their check on the companies computer system. Breaker was already flying through a series of windows and programs on the screen, opening up the company's accounting files.

"You always follow the money," he said to Clutch, who was seated at another computer at the table across from him. "If you're looking for evidence, always follow the money. A company like this has money pouring in from all directions. I just have to find where the money is all going."

"Good luck with that," Clutch said, shaking his head. A police officer came in with a stack of security videos on disc and set them on the table. Clutch looked at the stack of CDs and sighed loudly. "You know, I became a vehicle specialist specifically so I wouldn't have to do desk work like this."

Breaker leaned forward and stared deeply into the computer screen. He blew a bubble and it popped loudly. "You've got to broaden your horizons," he said.

"I rather have broads on my horizon," Clutch muttered.

While they were going through the computers and security videos, Shipwreck and Short Fuse were in a supply room right down the hall. It was lined with filing cabinets, and several FBI agents already had files and folders spilled out across tables, going through the company's employment history.

Short Fuse stood in the doorway, shaking his head. "I'm going to get Hauser for this. He gave me this job on purpose."

"It ain't so bad, man," Shipwreck said. "It ain't like there's anything else for us to really do around here. All these cops are doing most of the real work."

"I suppose so," Short Fuse said, taking a seat. He set a pack of files down and handed some of the papers to the FBI agents, listing the names of some of the people that were suspected of working for Cobra. Some of them were the people whose parents had accused Cobra of brainwashing or being a cult.

"Do you think we're actually going to find anything?" he asked as Shipwreck opened up one of the filing cabinets.

"You never know, man," Shipwreck said with a shrug. "Maybe we'll get lucky. I'm not gonna bet any money on it, though."

As they began to sort through files, looking for any familiar names or possible aliases, Snake Eyes, Scarlett, and Heavy Duty arrived at the underground parking lot, almost directly underneath them. More FBI agents were talking to the security guards, and they walked unhindered into the parking area and looked around.

"Who exactly is allowed to park down here?" Scarlett asked one of the FBI agents.

"Senior management and company vehicles. All regular employees have to park at the parking garage down the block."

"Seems pretty empty right now," Scarlett said.

"Yes, we noticed that. We're questioning the security guards now."

"Find out about those SUVs from the incident yesterday morning."

"Yes, ma'am."

Only a few spots in the parking area were filled, and they were all expensive luxury cars, presumably the cars driven by the management. Lexuses and BMWs were parked along one side, while almost the entire rest of the parking garage was empty. Down at the other end, they could see doors leading to elevators and stairways to the upper floors.

"If they were here," Heavy Duty noted, "they are long gone now, and they took all the trucks with them."

The FBI agent came back over and told Scarlett that the guards didn't know where any of the company vehicles were. They were gone when the guards had come to work. Scarlett thanked him for the information and took out her walkie-talkie. "Clutch, this is Scarlett," she said. "You're watching the security cameras, right?"

"Yeah, I'm just about to," Clutch replied.

"Can you start with the underground parking lot? All the company trucks are gone and the guards don't seem to know where they went."

"Okay. None of these CDs are labelled, so it'll take a few minutes to find the right one."

"Thanks."

Scarlett clipped the walkie back onto her belt and walked through the parking lot. Heavy Duty headed back to the elevators and checked inside. Snake Eyes walked slowly around the entrance area and sauntered back up the ramp to the alley behind the building. He looked up and down the alley and then casually walked back to where Heavy Duty and Scarlett were.

Scarlett put her hands on her hips. "Well, I guess we can check those elevators."

Back upstairs, Hawk and Duke were talking to the president of the company. He sat at his desk and shook his head vehemently, wiping dots of sweat from his forehead. "I have no idea about any trucks," he insisted. "I can't be held responsible for everything that goes on here. Certainly no one said anything to me about them. If they were property of our company, then they must have been stolen."

"Forget about the trucks for a moment," Duke said. "How old is this company, out of curiosity? Did you start it yourself?"

"No, I didn't found the company. Arbco has only been in business for six years. It was founded by a man named David Ekans. I was hired as general manager about four years ago and I became the president last year."

"Where is David Ekans now? Does he still own the company?" Duke asked.

"I'm sorry, but Mr. Ekans died several years ago in a house fire."

Gung-Ho walked over to Hawk and said quietly, "Didn't Cobra get started around about six years ago?"

"Something like that."

"Don't it seem a bit suspicious that they got started around the same time and then the owner mysteriously dies?"

"Coincidental, maybe," Hawk said. "I wouldn't say suspicious just yet."

Meanwhile, back downstairs, Breaker was still trying to access the vast amounts of accounting files on the company's server. He managed to find budget information and payroll accounts, but it was hard to tell how accurate it all was. He leaned back in the chair and chewed his gum thoughtfully.

Clutch sorted through the security videos and finally gave up. "They don't have any security tapes of the parking lot," he said. "That's pretty stupid if you ask me. You'd think that the parking lot is one of the places they'd want a camera."

"That is pretty strange," Breaker said. "They don't have a camera at the entrance or anything, so see who comes and goes?"

"No, at least they don't have it here with the others." He picked up his walkie-talkie and called Scarlett back. "Hey, I can't find the videos for the parking lot, sorry. Maybe someone else has them."

"Okay, but keep looking for them," Scarlett replied.

"Sure thing," Clutch said. He flipped through the discs and found one that showed the front lobby. The timer on the video showed that it was from the day before, so Clutch inserted it into the computer and slumped forward, his elbow on the table and his chin in his hand. He clicked on the screen and the video zipped into fast-forward. He watched the timer at the bottom of the screen and pressed play when it showed the time was roughly an hour after the shootout with the Cobra agents.

"Hey Breaker, take a look."

Breaker pushed away from the desk and his chair rolled over to the other computer. Clutch paused the video, and it showed several people standing in the lobby, one of them talking with the secretary. At the corner of the screen, there was a man in mid-stride wearing a white jacket, and sporting a bald head and thin mustache. The resolution on the screen wasn't that great, but the man was recognizable due to his unique appearance.

"Isn't that the doctor guy that Hawk and the others visited yesterday?" Clutch asked.

"Yes, it is," Breaker said. "I saw his file, and that's him all right." Breaker picked up the walkie and spoke into it. "Hello, Duke? This is Breaker. You should come downstairs. We found something you might want to see."

"Okay, Breaker. I'll be right there," Duke said.

Back in the basement, Snake Eyes walked to the stairwell and tilted his head upward, looking up through the narrow space in between the flights of stairs going all the way to the top floor. Scarlett talked to the FBI agents while Heavy Duty looked at the elevators, but found nothing out of the ordinary. The basement had no clues for them, so Scarlett suggested they go back up to the main floor.

"I wonder why they even have a freight elevator," Heavy Duty said. "The guards said that only company cars park down here. It's not like they would take deliveries down here anyway."

"I don't know," Scarlett said. "It was probably just installed when the building was first built, and this company moved in afterward. They probably didn't even use it."

Snake Eyes walked over to the freight elevator and quickly glanced around the inside. There was a simple control stick that could be pushed up to the desired floor. It was currently set for the basement, but there was a hollow section below it. Snake Eyes tried to push the lever down, but it didn't move.

Scarlett looked down at the control box and tried to open it up. "Do you think someone has disabled it?"

Snake Eyes nodded, and gestured for Scarlett to exit. He lifted the lever and quickly stepped out as well and closed the metal fence door. The elevator shut and they waited as it moved up to the first floor.

Snake Eyes stuck his sword inside the gap in the doors and pried them open enough for him to fit his fingers inside. Heavy Duty helped him pull the doors all the way open, revealing a dark elevator shaft.

Scarlett peered inside and saw that the shaft extended below them at least one story, maybe even more. She looked at Snake Eyes and nodded.

"Duke," she said into her walkie-talkie. "We found something in the parking garage. I think you should send some people down here."


	24. Chapter Twenty Three

Chapter Twenty-Three

The truck pulled to a stop in front of the school, a cloud of dust rolling past from the unpaved dirt road. The doors opened up and Major Bludd stepped out of the passenger side, tapping his pipe against his wrist, knocking tobacco onto the ground. He wore a dark brown military uniform with silver shoulder pads, and had pistols holstered at each hip. He adjusted his belt and looked around, fumbling in his pocket for a pouch of tobacco.

The school was located at the end of a long unpaved street right through the center of town, and only housed half a dozen classrooms, some administrative offices, and a gymnasium. It served as Bludd's base of operations. Down the street in front of the school were scattered buildings; the local post office, a drugstore, a tiny strip mall that contained a shoe store and a dentist's office among others, and there was a large church at the end of the block. All the buildings were empty, except for the church, which Bludd had taken as his personal residence for the time being. The grass was knee-high in most places, not having been mown in years, and right now it was far down on Bludd's list of priorities.

His driver, a man wearing a black Cobra uniform and helmet, waited by the truck as Bludd walked into the school and entered the lobby, his black boots clicking loudly on the dusty tile floor. Wooden crates were piled up everywhere, and would have to be disposed of eventually, but that was also not a priority. Right now, Bludd had only one thing on his itinerary.

The gymnasium was a mess. Half of it was lined with cots, where the new arrivals slept. The other half of the gym was stacked with various crates and containers, full of supplies and equipment, which were now scattered everywhere. A line of tables along the wall under one of the basketball hoops was covered in food supplies, such as cans and scraps of cardboard boxes, along with a pile of discarded plastic bottles.

Several soldiers were in the gym, some of them lying on their cots, some sitting around and talking. When they noticed Bludd, they jumped up out of their chairs and immediately saluted him.

Bludd snapped off a salute as well. "As you were," he said. "Where are the others?"

"Doing combat drills, sir," the soldier in front said. The red Cobra insignia on the shoulder of his jacket marked him as a squad captain.

Bludd gestured loosely toward the garbage and mess. "Get this cleaned up. Just dump it all out back for now. Cobra Commander will be here in a few hours."

At the mention of the Commander's name, all of the troops jumped into action. It was almost like just mentioning his name acted as a post-hypnotic suggestion to ensure complete obedience. Right away, the troops began gathering up the scraps and garbage and packing them up to haul outside. Bludd nodded to himself and continued through the gym and to the large set of double doors near the back.

Behind the school was a large open field flanked on both sides by wooded areas that stretched for several acres in each direction. Most of the field was not mown, like the rest of the properties near the school, but by now much of the tall grass had been stomped down. Several unmarked moving trucks were parked in a line in the middle of the field, and emptied crates were stacked nearby. Bludd walked across the flattened grass, hearing shouts nearby on the other side of the trucks.

More crates and boxes had been stacked up across the field, and several abandoned cars were also scattered around, turning the area into an obstacle course. Two black-uniformed Cobra officers stood on a long crate, overlooking the course, shouting directions.

Bludd watched as the Cobra troops, some dressed in red uniforms and others dressed in blue body armor, ran through the makeshift obstacle course, ducking behind stacks of crates and crouching behind vehicles as the two officers barked orders. They rushed in between locations, taking cover, cradling assault rifles in their arms, weighed down by full combat gear. More soldiers stood at the opposite end of the course, firing at them with paintball guns. The officers ordered the men forward and they dodged paintball fire, trying to make it to the end of the course. Most of the crates and cars were heavily decorated with orange splotches of color, and Bludd spied a few of the soldiers with orange markings as well.

"Major Bludd, it's good to see you, sir," one of the officers said, noticing him standing there.

Bludd walked up to them and crossed his arms, staring out at the advancing troops, nodding in approval. "I like this. Is everything going well?"

"Very well, sir."

"How many of them have been shot?"

"We had four or five men go down for the first few drills. But this drill and the last one, none of the men took hits."

"Wonderful. And I see you have them in full gear, that's a good idea."

"Thank you, sir."

As much as Bludd would have preferred that the men continue their drills, he knew they had to get ready. "Cobra Commander will be here in a few hours. He abandoned his operation in New York and is moving his headquarters here permanently."

The officer was taken aback in shock. "We don't have time to get everything ready!"

"Don't worry about it for now," Bludd said. "The Commander knows that we haven't completed all of our work here. Just get the men cleaned up and ready to give him a demonstration. I told the men inside to get rid of all the garbage as well. Let's try to make this place look nice when he arrives."

"Yes, sir! Of course!"

The officers immediately ended the drill and began ordering the men around. Bludd stood back and allowed the officers to take control of the situation. Even though he was technically in charge, one of his objectives was to get the officers to assert as much authority as possible, since they would be the ones in full command when Bludd left. His employment with Cobra was temporary. As soon as he felt the troops were properly trained, he would collect his payment and leave.

The next few hours went by in a flurry of activity, as the troops finished distributing the weapons that had been delivered the day before, and organized the empty crates a but more. Destro had delivered his final shipment almost a week early for some reason, and now the Cobra troops had a full assortment of weapons, from assault rifles to pistols to grenades to rocket launchers. Bludd hoped to start live-fire exercises in a day or two, as the troops so far had not been using actual ammunition in their practices.

At first, Bludd had been concerned about the use of live ammo, since the loud sound of constant gunfire tended to attract attention. But it was not a problem here. The town was pretty isolated, so there was no one around to hear the gunfire. According to the Commander's information, the nearest residents to the town were almost fifteen miles away, so they could fire all the ammo they wanted and no one would hear it.

Right now, he had four hundred troops at his disposal, most of them having been stationed here in town for almost a year. While the buildings near the school were still abandoned, most of the homes nearby had been occupied for some time by Cobra troops, and some of the businesses were open as well, such as the grocery store and a doctor's office, which were also staffed by Cobra troops. The town was not exactly thriving, but it was functional and almost self-supporting. Cobra owned some warehouses in a neighboring city where all their supplies were delivered first, and then Cobra agents brought the supplies into town, so no outsiders ever entered the town limits. But in time, that would change.

Almost four hours later, a helicopter appeared in the sky, flying low over the surrounding mountains. The Cobra soldiers lined up in formation, Major Bludd in front, and waited expectantly as the helicopter lowered to the ground.

The side door slid open and Cobra Commander stepped out, dressed in a dark blue uniform with silver shoulder epaulettes and a bright silver Cobra symbol on his chest. He wore tall black boots and his hands were concealed in black gloves. And as usual, he wore a helmet with a reflective silver facemask, and he also sported a dark blue cape. Bludd had so far never seen even a glimpse of Cobra Commander's real face, and he suspected that even the Commander's bodyguard, the ninja Storm Shadow, had never seen it either.

The wind from the helicopter rotors buffeted them, but Cobra Commander barely seemed to notice. His cape flapped wildly behind him as he surveyed the crowd of troops, and after a few moments he stepped forward and approached Major Bludd. Behind him, Storm Shadow emerged from the helicopter as well, and the rotors finally began to slow as the engine shut down. The ninja wore his standard white clothing, with a hood obscuring his face, and he had one sword sheathed across his back instead of the usual two.

"Good work, Major Bludd," the Commander said. "How much of their training have you completed? Surely you aren't done yet?"

"Most of their basic training is done. We're doing advanced combat drills right now. We just started doing weapon drills, since we only got the weapons recently."

"I understand. But you'll have to speed things up, I'm afraid."

Bludd was not surprised. The only reason the Commander would move his headquarters on such short notice was if something had gone wrong in New York. Although he was very curious what had happened, he had the discretion not to ask questions.

"When is everything else going to arrive?" he asked.

"Tonight," the Commander said. "We had to ship the rest by truck. Doctor Mindbender is coming as well. My command center is established and ready to set up our equipment, correct?"

"Yes," Bludd answered.

"Good. Let's go down and see it, shall we?"


	25. Chapter Twenty Four

_This chapter was only half-complete last time I updated the story, so here is the completed chapter._

Chapter Twenty-Four

Snake Eyes lowered himself down the dark elevator shaft, hanging from a rope secured above him, where Duke and Scarlett looked down as he descended into darkness. They had tried to repair the elevator controls, but couldn't get it to work, so they had to go down the hard way. Shining a tiny handheld flashlight into the gloom below him, Snake Eyes descended until he reached the bottom of the shaft, and then unhooked the line from his harness.

He flipped off the flashlight and stashed it in a pocket, and pried the elevator doors open a few inches. There was nothing to see beyond the doors; everything was in pitch darkness. So Snake Eyes lowered a pair of night vision goggles over his mask and turned them on.

Most night vision equipment works by enhancing tiny amounts of available light, but since there was no light at all at the bottom of the shaft, normal goggles would be useless. Snake Eyes' goggles shined an invisible beam of infrared light, which it then picked up to produce an image.

Through the door, all he could see was a bare hallway leading forward. There was no one there, waiting in the dark to ambush them. They didn't really expect anyone, but were taking no chances. Snake Eyes flipped the goggles back up and turned his flash light back on, shining it up the shaft.

"Is it okay to come down?" Scarlett called down to him.

Snake Eyes waved his hand, signaling yes. He set the flashlight down so it shined down the hallway, and then pulled the elevator doors all the way open. He lifted himself up and climbed into the hallway, and shined the flashlight around to look for a switch on the wall.

A few minutes later, Scarlett, Duke, and Shipwreck joined him. Duke adjusted his radio headset and said quietly into the mike, "Can you hear me, Breaker?"

"Loud and clear," Breaker said. All of the headsets were connected, so everyone could hear him.

"Okay," Duke said. "I guess it's time to look around."

Shipwreck hefted a machine gun and squinted, trying to make out any movement down the hall. All of them had flashlights strapped to the ends of their guns, and the competing beams of light reflected off the metal walls, creating shadows that appeared to move.

The four of them walked carefully down the hall, looking around but not seeing anything. They reached an intersection in the hallway, and Scarlett said, "Do we want to split up?"

"Yes," Duke said. "You and Snake Eyes go that way, Shipwreck and I will go the other way. Keep in radio contact."

As Snake Eyes and Scarlett walked off around a corner, Duke and Shipwreck continued down the other way. There was no light except for the wavering beams from their flashlights; they had found switches on the wall, but none of them seemed to work. Duke hunched his shoulders up nervously, uncomfortable in the almost complete darkness. He kept his breathing steady though. It would not help his reputation with the team if they knew he was scared.

"We haven't seen anything," he said into his microphone. "Wait, there's a few doors up ahead."

He and Shipwreck cautiously approached the doorway on the right side of the hall, shining their lights inside. It was a large empty room, with some long tables and random wires and electronic components scattered around on the floor. Shipwreck walked inside and shined his light on the uneven rows of hospital cots at the other end of the room.

"That's kinda strange," he said. "Was this some kind of medical infirmary?"

"Who knows?" Duke said. "Let's keep going."

They continued their search for a few more minutes, finding two more large rooms, that although they were currently empty, showed signs that they had been in use not too long ago. There was no dust on the floor that they could see, and leftover objects lying around seemed as if they had been used recently. They even found some bottles of soda in a small supply room that were well within their use-by date.

"Scarlett, have you found anything?" Duke asked into the mike.

"No, nothing but empty rooms. I think this place is deserted."

"Alright then. Breaker, let General Hawk know. We can send the rest of the team down here as well, and have them bring extra lights."

"Sure thing, Duke."

Scarlett didn't mind the darkness much at all. She enjoyed exploring caves and spelunking in her free time, so this felt like a normal activity for her. The only difference was the sounds. Most caves had ambient noises like animals scratching or water dripping, but the only sounds here in the underground complex was the distant rumble of traffic above them. She kept her light aimed at the floor most of the time; the metal floor reflected the light up anyway and diffused it, providing enough to make out her surroundings.

Snake Eyes hovered nearby, his black outfit making him even more invisible in the darkness. Scarlett listened very carefully, but Snake Eyes was completely silent, slipping through the blackness like a shade. In his free time, Scarlett guessed that Snake Eyes practiced being quiet, because he was very good at it.

Suddenly, the lights blinked on, and Scarlett immediately shielded her eyes from the unexpected brightness. She looked around to see Snake Eyes behind her, aiming his gun down the hallway although there was nothing there.

Breaker's voice came over the radio. "Got the lights working."

"Yes, we noticed," Scarlett said, her eyes adjusting to the light..

"Good work, Breaker," Duke said.

"We're sending the rest of the team down now," Breaker said.

"Okay, I'll meet them at the elevator."

"Do you want us to meet you there?" Scarlett asked.

"No, keep looking around for now," Duke said. "We'll meet up with you in a little bit."

"Okay."

Snake Eyes lowered his assault rifle, looked around for a few moments, assuring himself that they were not in any danger, and then slung the rifle over his shoulder. He drew one of his automatic pistols, however, and kept it in his hand as he and Scarlett continued down the hall and further into the complex.

A few minutes later, they came upon several more rooms. Scarlett carefully went inside and looked around as Snake Eyes went off on his own to examine the others rooms. Like all the others, the rooms were empty, only a few scraps and random items left behind. Disappointed that there was so little evidence of what had gone on, Scarlett wandered back into the hallway and to the set of rooms that Snake Eyes was checking.

She looked inside to see Snake Eyes standing in the center of the small room, his head tilted down as he looked at something. The room was very small, perhaps only ten feet square. Like the others, it was empty except for a few random sheets of paper on the floor, and there was a tiny sink in the corner.

Snake Eyes did not move when Scarlett came up beside him. She saw that he was looking at an item in his hand, a tiny scrap of paper with a design scratched on it in red ink. He remained completely motionless, the tiny piece of paper taking all his concentration.

Scarlett looked at it and saw that it was the design she had seen earlier on the two swords: a series of six red lines with two of them dashed.

"That same design is on your sword," she said quietly. "I saw it this morning. The same mark was on that other ninja's sword as well."

Snake Eyes let out a slow breath and nodded.

"That symbol must be from the school you were trained at, isn't it?"

Again, Snake Eyes nodded, but signed nothing. He seemed lost in thought.

Scarlett pressed further. "You know who he is, don't you?"

Finally, Snake Eyes glanced at her, and then looked back down at the piece of paper. He shook his head regrettably and lowered his arm. The scrap of paper fluttered to the floor.


	26. Chapter Twenty Five

_I'd like to apologize to everyone who was reading this story about not updating it for so long. When I completed Part 5 of my Resident Evil saga last summer, I planned on finishing The Rise of Cobra right after that. But unfortunately, things didn't turn out quite as I expected. I wound up not working on this story for like eight months. The story just kind of stalled creatively for me, and other projects came up that took most of my free time. So I apologize for leaving you all hanging like that._

_But now I'm back and finally ready to finish this novel. This week I uploaded the rest of Chapter 24 as well as Chapter 25 and Chapter 26, and I promise I'll update at least one chapter a week until the novel is complete. I'd like to thank all the people who have left reviews to the story so far, and I hope they'll forgive the long break since last time I updated. _

Chapter Twenty-Five

Duke set his hands on the edge of the desk and leaned forward to look over Breaker's shoulder. "So what do you have for me?" he asked.

The building was still busy with federal agents coming and going, but it seemed that the work was finally winding down. The underground complex was being fully investigated, and most of the team was down there now, searching every last inch of the place. After quick but thorough background checks, most of the employees of Arbco Marketing were allowed to go home at the end of the day, although a few of the upper management were still there, working with the federal agents. It had been long day.

Hawk had already returned to Washington to give an update to his superiors there, and Duke was left in command. So far, they'd found nothing of value in the underground complex, except that there was evidence of a serious operation, the extent of which was still being investigated.

"I'm afraid we don't have much," Breaker said. He blew a bubble and it popped loudly as he pointed at the screen. "I'd need six months and an army of accountants to figure out all the finances for this company. They have so much money coming and going that I can't see any kind of pattern to it. But I'm hardly an expert."

"Don't worry about it," Duke said. "The FBI has men checking it out. Just tell me what you do have."

Breaker shrugged and closed a few windows on the screen, opening up to another program. "Well, I did a search for the guy who founded the company, like you asked me to. I didn't find much on him, but I did find this."

The screen showed a list of companies amidst a series of numbers and accounts, listed in alphabetical order. Right near the top of the list were companies with the same name as the marketing firm.

"See these?" Breaker said, tapping the screen. "We have Arbco Construction, Arbco Financial Advisors, Arbco Sales, Arbco Transport Company. There's a whole list of companies here with that name, so they must be connected. I'm guessing that guy just founded all these companies himself."

"The president of the company didn't mention this," Duke said. "Of course, he didn't seem to know much at all about the founder. He said he only met him a few times."

"Whoever this David Ekans guy was, he's certainly hard to track down," Breaker admitted. "His name pops up a few times in a web search, but its all related to these companies. Nothing about him personally. I gave the Feds his name and they're trying to get information on him now."

Duke frowned and put his hands on his hips. He sighed and waved his hand toward the screen in a futile gesture. "So that's all we have?"

"Well," Breaker said, "I cross-referenced all these companies with the financial records, and I did find two matches." He typed for a moment and the screen flipped through more program windows, until only two companies were listed.

"Arbco Construction and Arbco Janitorial Supplies," Duke said, reading it off the screen. "So this company transferred money to them?"

"Yes, sir. And here is the interesting thing. Check the date."

"That's today's date," Duke said. "Are you telling me that those transactions were made this morning?"

"Seems that way."

"How much money are we talking?"

"About seven-hundred thousand dollars. Maybe more."

"Jesus," Duke said. "First the basement and now this. They knew we were coming and they grabbed whatever they could before they left."

"Makes sense though," Breaker said. "When that attack on you failed, they must have known we would trace them here eventually."

"Can you trace those money transfers? Maybe get a bank account or something?"

"Not from here, but the Feds can."

"Do it. And find out whatever else you can. Keep me informed."

"Yes, sir."

Duke left the office and headed down the hall to the back of the building, where he could access the parking lot and head down into the underground base. He could just call them on a walkie-talkie to learn their status, but he wanted to go down again himself and see what was going on first-hand.

Short Fuse and Shipwreck appeared down the hall and stopped him. Short Fuse handed him a folder and started talking as Duke opened it up.

"The FBI told me to give this to you. It's their official file on Mr. Ekans."

"They had a complete file on him?" Duke asked, flipping through the pages. "You mean they were already investigating him?"

"They said he was suspected of funneling money to a group of political extremists about ten years ago. They never proved anything though."

"Political extremists?"

"Think domestic terrorists," Shipwreck explained. "They vandalized a bunch of local government offices in Vermont and supposedly used a car bomb to try to assassinate some local politician. No one was ever caught, but somehow this Ekans guy was connected to it, or at least they thought he was. The case was closed a long time ago, though."

"I'm beginning to think David Ekans is the key to this whole thing," Duke said. "The guy upstairs said that he died in a house fire, but this file doesn't have his death listed."

"His death was never verified," Shipwreck said. "His house burned down and they found a body, but it was never positively identified as him. We checked with the police, and they said the fire was probably arson, but they never arrested anyone."

"This just gets weirder and weirder," Duke said, closing the file. "I take it you guys didn't find any new information when you searched the employee records?"

Short Fuse shook his head. "No, nothing there."

"Alright. Are you done up here, then? I was heading back downstairs, if you want to come along."

"Whatever you say, Hauser."

Duke, Shipwreck, and Short Fuse went to the parking garage and descended into the underground facility by way of the freight elevator, which had been rewired to allow it to go down. As the elevator descended, Duke tapped the David Ekans file impatiently against his leg, trying to figure out how all of this fit together. They had a mysterious company founder who may or may not be dead, a secret underground base, and an armed terrorist organization, and somehow they all were interconnected. And they also had a weapons manufacturer, a prominent neurological psychiatrist, and who knows what else might be involved. They had uncovered so much information in just a few days that it was hard to process it all.

"Any theories?" Duke asked out loud.

"About Cobra?" Shipwreck asked.

"About anything."

Shipwreck rubbed his chin, which sported two days worth of stubble. "Well, I think it's pretty obvious that Cobra had a large operation here. This Ekans guy must be involved, or at least he was involved at some point. I'm not sure what other conclusions we can make. You talked to Breaker already, right?"

"Yeah, he told me about those other companies."

"Okay," Shipwreck said. "So Ekans used those other companies as a front to launder money, or maybe some other reason. He fakes his death and goes underground. How does that sound so far?"

Duke nodded to himself. "Sounds about right. That's a lot of speculation, though. Ekans really could be dead for all we know."

"Where does that scientist fit into this?" Short Fuse asked, leaning against the wall of the elevator with his arms crossed over his chest. "That guy from the institute?"

"Yes, the good Doctor Bogdanovich," Duke said dismissively. "Apparently, he left the institute in a hurry not long after we left yesterday, and he didn't show up today. They have no idea where he is. The FBI already searched his office and found nothing."

"So he's involved, then?"

"I think he is. He's probably the one who sent those thugs after us yesterday, and sent that assassin to the Pit. He's the only one who knew about our investigation."

"What could he possibly have to do with this, though? I thought the guy was a respected scientist. Why would he be working with Cobra?"

"I have no idea," Duke confessed. "Just one more mystery to figure out."

The elevator thumped to a stop and the doors opened, and the three of them walked down the silver hallway to catch up with the rest of the team. There were more federal agents everywhere, brushing the walls for fingerprints, examining every item they could find, scanning the area for spying or listening devices, and all sorts of other activities. So far, they had found little of value.

By checking the utility records, they had learned that Arbco Marketing had been using almost twice the amount of electricity it should have been using. Combined with some of the marks on the floor in some of the rooms, they surmised that there had been large machinery in place, although they had no idea what kind of equipment was being used. They were testing the floor for any residue or substances that would identify the kind of work that was done, but it was a long process and could take weeks to figure out.

"Here's another thing I don't get," Shipwreck said as they passed empty room after empty room. "They must have had some kind of major operation here, right? So how in the hell did they move everything out so fast? They couldn't have just sent everything up the elevator, could they? It would have drawn too much attention."

"Without the surveillance tapes of the parking garage, we'll never know," Duke said. "I'm guessing they didn't really have that much equipment down here. Maybe a few truckloads worth. They could have done in the middle of the night and no one would have noticed."

They walked into one of the larger rooms, where a dozen federal agents with white gloves were examining the floor, and dusting the doorways for fingerprints. One of the agents stopped Duke and the others from entering. "Please, sir," he said. "Only walk in the area we marked off, we don't want anyone contaminating the scene."

"Of course. Have you found anything?"

"Some tobacco ash, probably from a pipe. There's also some dirt and mud, but it could have been tracked here from anywhere. We've only started collecting evidence."

"Okay. Keep us informed."

"Yes, sir."

They walked through the room, keeping to the area that the agents had already checked, and headed into another larger chamber, where Scarlett was waiting for them. There were tables scattered around with some of the objects they had found, as well as numerous laptop computers that the agents were using.

"Why do I get the feeling that you enjoy it when people call you 'sir'?" Short Fuse commented.

"It's very empowering," Duke admitted. "You should try being in charge sometime."

Scarlett came up to them and handed Duke a slip of paper. It was nothing but a series of red lines. "What is this?" he asked her.

"We found it in one of the side rooms," Scarlett said. "The man who broke into the Pit was carrying a katana sword that had the same design on the handle. It's a symbol for a dojo or a training school, or even for a ninja clan."

"Okay," Duke said. "That's a start. Is there any way that we can learn what school uses this symbol?"

"As a matter of fact, there is," Scarlett said. "Snake Eyes recognizes it. He had to return to the Pit to check on it, but I think he'll be able to tell us exactly what school uses this symbol. Right now it's all we have."

Gung-Ho's voice came over the walkie-talkie. "Duke, you better come down here. We found something."

"I'm already here," Duke said. "Where are you?"

"The west corner of the complex," Gung-Ho replied. "Scarlett can lead you there."

A few minutes later, all of them arrived in a wide corner hallway that appeared to be a dead end, where a bunch of agents were standing around. Gung-Ho stood in the middle of them with his muscular arms crossed. He was easy to see because he was a head taller than any of the people around him. He started at the wall as Duke and the others approached.

"So what do you have for me?"

"It's right here, Duke," Gung-Ho said, and then he snapped at one of the agents. "Hey, are you guys done with that yet?"

"Yes, we've gotten it. Everyone get out of the way."

One of the agents was kneeling down in front of the wall, fiddling with some electrical wires that had been pulled out. He twisted two of them together and suddenly there was the sound of a motor coming to life. A huge section of the wall moved backward and swung out, revealing a hidden chamber beyond. The agents, as well as the Joe team, all drew their weapons and aimed them into the darkness.

The hidden door led to a room that attached to a series of maintenance tunnels that led into the sewer system. They could see footprints and other marks in the dust, as well as lines and tracks made by wheels. The federal agents swept into the room and called for backup, while Duke and the others stood back.

"Well, I guess this answers your question," Duke said to Shipwreck. "Here's how they got everything out without being seen."

"Should we check it out?" Scarlett asked. "To see where it leads?"

Gung-Ho shook his head and said, "Not worth the trouble. There probably ain't anything for us to find anyway. Let the Feds go looking."

"You're probably right," Duke said.

"Besides," Gun-Ho said. "It's getting pretty late. And most of us have been up since what, one in the morning?"

"You getting tired?" Duke said with a grin.

"I need my beauty sleep," Gung-Ho grunted.

"It has been a long day," Scarlett chimed in. "And to be honest, there isn't much left for us to do here. We're not forensic investigators, after all. Maybe we should leave the rest of this to the FBI agents."

Duke glanced back at Shipwreck and Short Fuse, who nodded their agreement. It had been a very long day, Duke admitted that. He'd been awakened at a little after midnight by Hawk's phone call, after only getting two hours of sleep, and he'd spent all day working. If he spent much longer here, he would be too tired to think straight.

"All right," he said. "You guys can leave if you want. Let's all meet back at the Pit tomorrow. Say, eight in the morning. I think the FBI can handle it until then."

As the rest of them left, Duke pulled out his walkie-talkie and said, "Breaker, this is Duke. You can pack it up for the night, I'm sending everyone home. We'll meet back at the Pit tomorrow morning at eight."

"I was just about to call you," Breaker said. "You might want to come back up here, we have some more information on those other companies. I think we have a lead."

"I'll be up shortly," Duke said. He sighed and decided that sleep would have to wait.


	27. Chapter Twenty Six

Chapter Twenty-Six

Doctor Mindbender sat quietly in the small classroom, his hands folded in his lap, while Storm Shadow stood by the window, gazing outside. At the moment, Mindbender's laboratory was set up in a classroom in the old school that Cobra Commander had chosen as their main base of operations. Some of the other classrooms were used for the subjects still under hypnosis, although most of them were awake now and fully loyal to the cause.

Major Bludd, who was finally making himself useful as far as Storm Shadow was concerned, was in charge of their military training. Most of them were outside now, engaging in rifle practice, and the constant sound of gunfire was beginning to grate. Storm Shadow nothing though, as usual, and did not let his annoyance show.

Doctor Mindbender cleared his throat, but Storm Shadow ignored him, continuing to gaze out the window. He preferred this quaint, natural setting to the hectic, crowded, noisy environment of New York City. If not for the continual barrage of gunfire outside, Storm Shadow would have found this place quite peaceful.

"I did what I thought was necessary," Mindbender said out loud, trying not to sound defensive. "It's not my fault that your men gave themselves away."

Storm Shadow said nothing for a moment and then turned away from the window, not even glancing in Mindbender's direction as he walked past.

"Stay here and keep your mouth shut," he said as he walked out the door.

Cobra Commander was in the school office, leaning over a table covered in maps of the local area. He had his gloved hands folded behind his back, his reflective visor mirroring the maps spread out before him. Standing at attention in the room were five guards wearing crimson uniforms with gold trim, angled helmets with thin silver visors, and assault rifles in their hands. They did not move as Storm Shadow entered the room.

Cobra Commander turned his head ever so slightly to peer at Storm Shadow out of the corner of his eye. He hummed contentedly and continued to examine the maps.

Storm Shadow walked to the office window, which looked out across the field where the soldiers were doing rifle drills. Twenty of them at a time lined up and fired at man-shaped wooden targets.

"I have to admit that I'm disappointed in you," the Commander said casually. "I thought that the task I gave you was rather simple."

"It was simple," Storm Shadow said. "But it got complicated."

"Yes, I suppose so. Perhaps it was foolish of me to expect you to break into a secured military facility single-handedly and assassinate the commanding officer without being caught."

Of course, that was exactly what the Commander had expected of him. After all, that sort of work was precisely the ninja's specialty. And almost any other time, Storm Shadow would have succeeded with ease. However, as he said, things got complicated.

"Would it make you feel better if I promised never to fail you again?" Storm Shadow asked.

"It would, actually. Don't worry, you'll have your chance very soon."

"How long do we have until they discover our location?"

Cobra Commander shrugged slightly, and slid his hand across the surface of a map. "Another day, perhaps less."

"That soon?"

"We didn't have very much time to clean up in New York. The computer records at Arbco are incomplete, of course, but a teenaged computer hacker with a few hours to spare could easily break into the system and figure out where we are soon enough. The information is there, and I don't expect it to take long for them to put it all together."

Storm Shadow nodded. "We can thank Mindbender for that."

"How is Mindbender doing?"

"Scared out of his wits."

"As he should be."

"He thinks you brought him out here to kill him."

Cobra Commander let out a raspy chuckle. "He's probably right."

Storm Shadow walked over to the tables and looked at the maps. Some of them were topographical, showing the elevation of the surrounding hills and mountains, and others were plain road maps. Certain areas around the town were circled with a red marker.

"You don't sound very angry," he noted. "If you're right about all of this, the military will be here tomorrow looking for us. I expected you to be in a worse mood."

"Well," the Commander said, "I'm trying to view the situation in its proper perspective."

"Which is?"

Cobra Commander straightened and walked over to the windows, folding his hands behind his back. As if aware that their leader was watching them, the soldiers outside seemed to move faster, speeding up their drills. More gunfire erupted across the open field, more targets were blown to pieces, and the Commander watched it all, his posture relaxed and content. Storm Shadow had long ago learned to read the Commander's mood based solely on his body language, since reading his facial expressions was impossible. And as far as Storm Shadow could tell, his mysterious employer was actually in a good mood.

"I wish we had more time to prepare," he said softly, sunlight glinting off the edge of his mirrored faceplate. "But I think they will be ready enough when the time comes. It will be their first real chance to fight. Their first test of faith."

Calling it "faith" was a stretch, so Storm Shadow said nothing. When he did not respond, Cobra Commander turned to face him. "You see, this is exactly what I've been working toward all these years. I knew it would come to this eventually, so there is no reason to be upset that it comes a few weeks earlier than I anticipated."

"I thought you were going to use this town as a headquarters," Storm Shadow said.

"Yes, the loss of my town will damage my long-term goals," the Commander admitted, "But I've already made plans to start another one, with no incriminating connections to Arbco or any of my other operations."

"So all of this," Storm Shadow said, waving his arm to indicate the soldiers and their training, "All of this is what? A noble sacrifice?"

"It is a trial," the Commander corrected him. "A crucible that will burn away our weakness, leaving behind the purity of our belief. This is where the loyal members of Cobra will see first-hand the weapons of tyranny descend upon them. I know that they believe in what I tell them, but now they will actually experience it for themselves."

Storm Shadow, even though he had served as the Commander's personal bodyguard for several years now, still had lingering doubts about the Commander's sincerity. Sometimes he openly discussed their illegal activities in purely financial terms, giving little thought to any kind of political philosophy, treating the Cobra organization as little more than a tool he used to increase his wealth and personal power. And then, at other times, he would wax poetic about the tyranny of the government, inventing all sorts of noble and meaningful justifications for the varied and numerous crimes that they committed. It was hard to tell when the Commander was being sincere, when he was saying what he actually believed, or if he was just spouting what his followers expected him to say.

When Cobra Commander ranted about personal freedom and justice, Storm Shadow could not help but consider the fact that they were using mind-control drugs to create loyal subjects. Hardly the actions of a leader concerned with the "freedom" of those who followed him. And far too many of Cobra's activities were motivated purely by profit for Storm Shadow to take it very seriously.

Cobra Commander was a man with two competing personalities with vaguely related goals. Part of him was truly dedicated to the cause of personal freedom, fiercely determined to throw off the shackles of the government and create a new system where his people could work together and live as they wanted. Perhaps at one time, that personality had been the dominant one. But the other part of Cobra Commander was fascinated and obsessed with power, control, and domination, turning his organization into a criminal empire filled with corruption and abuse.

Storm Shadow never spoke openly about his opinions. He was not a follower of Cobra, he was merely an employee. Perhaps that was why Cobra Commander gave him such a degree of freedom within the organization. Storm Shadow was smart enough to think for himself.

"So what do you plan do to when they come for us?" he asked finally.

Cobra Commander gestured to the maps spread out on the table. "We will set up a defensive perimeter around the center of town. I suspect they will come from the north, since I doubt they will bother to circle around first. The bulk of our forces will remain in the rear, protecting this facility. We will stand our ground as long as humanly possible."

"Will you order your men to fight to the death?"

"I believe they will do that anyway," the Commander said. "Although some will certainly surrender. That is what I meant when I said we will burn away our weakness. Those who survive the battle will be the strong ones, the ones who have proven themselves."

"How many losses are you prepared to accept?"

"It depends on how much resistance we face."

"And afterward?"

"I have made preparations, of course."

Cobra Commander stood at the window for some time longer, watching his soldiers outside continue their practice. Major Bludd shouted the occasional order, and the sound of gunfire continued to fill the air. Storm Shadow did not think that the soldiers out there stood any real chance against the might of the US Military, but it was not really his concern.

"We will come out of this stronger than before," Cobra Commander said quietly, as if speaking to himself. "They might think that they can defeat us, but they are only going to make us more powerful. The world will know what happened here, and the world will see how the government seeks to crush any dissent and destroy anyone who tries to fight against the status quo. And all those who feel helpless, the downtrodden and the marginalized, will seek us out and join us. And we will accept them with open arms. The government's victory will be a short-lived one. They might believe that Cobra will be weakened, but in reality, their actions against us will only make us stronger."


	28. Chapter Twenty Seven

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Early the next morning, the entire Joe team assembled in the Pit. Duke stood in the front of the command center, wearing khaki pants and a black shirt. Gathered in front of him was the entire team, including Stalker, who was seated gingerly in a chair, looking tired. Scarlett and Clutch stood in front, looking more awake than the others. Shipwreck, Gung-Ho, Short Fuse, and Heavy Duty stood around, while Breaker was seated at a nearby computer terminal. In the back of the room stood Snake Eyes, nearly blending into the shadows, and General Hawk, who watched the proceedings with his arms crossed and a pleased expression on his face.

Behind Duke was a large plasma screen television turned on to show satellite images of a wooded area viewed from a high altitude.

"Okay, here's what we have so far," Duke started, nodding toward Breaker, who tapped a few keys. The satellite image zoomed in to reveal roads and some tiny gray squares in the middle of the wilderness that must have been buildings.

"Right now you're looking at a small town in Kansas called Springfield. It was founded in the early 1800s as a town for coal workers. However, all the local coal mines were stripped around 1940 and the town, as far as we can tell, was abandoned soon after. Up until a couple of years ago, the place was basically a ghost town. There are no records of anyone living there for at least the past 20 years."

Duke opened up some folders spread out on a table next to him. "And as far as we can tell, no one owned any of the land, either. Until recently, that is. Four years ago, it seems that a company called Perfect Living Associates applied to purchase most of the land in and around Springfield. We can't find records of the exact amount, but it's possible that the entire town could have been sold for just a few million, since it was basically unwanted land in the middle of nowhere."

Duke cleared his throat and took a drink. He didn't like speaking like this in front of groups of people, but he decided that he would get used to it. He glanced up to see Short Fuse looking at him with a sarcastic look on his face.

"Anyway," Duke continued. "Perfect Living Associates no longer exists. They were a subsidiary of another company called Advanced Property Developers, who were then bought out by another company. It gets pretty tangled, but one of the companies involved in all these real estate deals was called Arbco Developments."

"I think I see where you're going with this," Gung-Ho commented.

"Yeah," Duke said. "Just like Arbco Marketing. And Arbco Construction, and all those other companies."

"Are there any other connections?" Scarlett asked. "I don't want to sound skeptical, but it sounds pretty thin so far."

Breaker blew a bubble and it popped loudly. He spoke up, leaning back in his chair. "We found some banking information for Arbco Marketing that connects them with Arbco Transportation, a trucking company. Thanks to the FBI, we have records from the trucking company that shows they made numerous shipments to the same zip code as Springfield, going back over a year."

"Thanks, Breaker," Duke said, glad for the interruption. "Can you zoom in this image some more?"

The satellite image came in closer, but became blurry. "That's as close as it gets," Breaker said apologetically. "I don't know how old this picture is, either. It might be six months old for all we know."

"That's good enough," Duke said. He used a laser pointer to indicate some whitish rectangles off to the side of one of the long roads heading into the town. "These are trucks, I think. And this looks to me like some kind of construction site. We're trying to get some verification on that."

Hawk spoke up from the back of the room. "What about the video, Duke?"

"Yes, I was getting to that," Duke replied. Actually, he had nearly forgotten about it, getting caught up in the details of the small town of Springfield. Thankfully, Hawk was there to steer him back on course. "Can we switch to that video, Breaker?"

"Sure thing," Breaker said, casually tapping some more keys. A new window popped up on the plasma screen and expanded to show a security video from what appeared to be a parking garage.

"Did they find footage from the parking lot?" Scarlett asked.

"Not exactly," Duke said. "This is a security camera from a parking structure a few blocks from Arbco. The time on this was six o'clock in the morning."

The video started, showing a black-and-white view of one of the rows of parking spots . Several large trucks and vans were parking in most of the spaces. A large set of doors at the end of the aisle opened, and a group of men came out, wheeling large carts behind them. The video went on for a few minutes, as more people came out, carrying equipment and computers and loading them into the vehicles.

"Those doors lead to a maintenance tunnel," Duke explained. "It goes right into the sewers and you can guess the rest. That's how they got everything out without anyone noticing." He pointed at the screen and said, "The interesting part is coming up right now."

Most of the trucks and vans pulled out of their parking spots and drove away without the camera getting a good look at their license plates. But the last van, at the front of the aisle, was close enough to the camera that it got a clear image of the plate.

"The FBI traced that license plate to a staffing agency in New York. They raided the place about three hours ago, and it was empty. The company was nothing but a few empty offices. But they did find some leftover paperwork in a dumpster out back, which included purchase invoices from various other companies. The address on most of them was listed as Springfield, Kansas."

"So exactly what are we dealing with here?" Gung-Ho asked after a moment. "This little town is what? Their base of operations?"

"We think so," Duke said. "And we've received authorization to go there and find out. The FBI and local law enforcement will assist."

"When do we leave?" Scarlett asked.

"Right now," Hawk answered. "As soon as we can get out the door."

"So let's not waste any time," Duke added, stepping forward and speaking to the members of the team in turn. The team seemed to gravitate around him as he gave them their orders.

"Clutch, get the MPAVs ready, we're taking both of them. Heavy Duty and Short Fuse, you two handle the ordnance, take whatever you think will come in handy and get it loaded up. Shipwreck and Gung-Ho, take some time and study those satellite pictures. I would like a plan of action as soon as possible. Give Hawk your recommendations for an assault plan."

He turned to the others and said, "Breaker, get us some transportation. You're coming along too, don't forget."

"I wouldn't miss it for the world, man," Breaker said.

"Scarlett, you and Snake Eyes are going to do primary surveillance and intelligence. Talk it over with the others, but I think you two should parachute in ahead of us and let us know what we're up against."

"Yes, sir," Scarlett said with an excited smile on her face. She ran off and Snake Eyes followed silently after her.

Hawk gave Duke a wide grin, and Duke shrugged it off as he walked over to Stalker.

"What about me?" Stalker asked with a weary smile.

"I think you're going to have to sit this one out," Duke said apologetically. "You're still too injured to go out on a mission like this."

Stalker nodded, although the disappointment was clear on his face. "Yeah, I guess I understand that. The doc said that I'm lucky to be alive at all, so I guess I shouldn't push my luck, huh?"

"Just stay here and get healthy," Duke advised. "We'll be in constant contact with you here at the Pit, so I promise you won't miss anything."

"Thanks," Stalker said. "And good luck out there."

Duke patted Stalker gently but reassuringly on the shoulder and headed out of the command center, with Hawk walking beside him.

"Good job, Duke," Hawk said.

"Thank you, sir."

"I think you're going to grow into a fine commander. I know you're still a bit nervous about giving orders, but you're doing a great job so far. The team likes you, and better than that, I think they trust you. That's the most important thing a team can give their commander."

Duke felt uncomfortable receiving such praise, so he changed the subject. "Are you going to come along with us, sir?"

Hawk shook his head. "No, I think I'll stay here at the Pit and keep Stalker company."

"Hey, Duke," Breaker called out. "They have a transport plane waiting at Andrews just for us. We have priority clearance."

"Okay, excellent," Duke replied. "I'll let the others know."

Down in the garage, Clutch updated the MPAV data systems and ran diagnostic checks, and made sure the vehicles were fully fueled and armed. From the armory, Heavy Duty and Short Fuse appeared, carrying weapons and equipment. Short Fuse loaded half a dozen M-16 assault rifles into one of the MPAVs, while Heavy Duty carried over the XM250C Minigun and set it inside the other vehicle.

"You have a chance to shoot that thing yet?" Clutch asked, eyeing the Minigun.

"Oh yeah," Heavy Duty answered with a chuckle. "I shot off a few clips yesterday down in the firing range. Man, that thing is a beast."

"You think you'll actually need it today?"

"I like to be prepared. Those Cobra guys we fought the other day weren't shy about shooting back at us, were they? If we're gonna get into a firefight, I want the biggest, baddest gun on the battlefield." Heavy Duty patted the casing of the XM250C affectionately. "And this baby is it."

Back in the command center, as Gung-Ho and Shipwreck discussed the assault plan with Hawk and Duke, Snake Eyes appeared and walked over to where Stalker was sitting. Stalker nodded and motioned to a chair beside him.

"Sorry, I can't go with you, Snake. I gotta stay here. Doctor's orders."

Snake Eyes sat down and hunched forward, resting his elbows on his knees. He glanced at Duke and the others, and then slowly turned to look at Stalker. His eyes were invisible behind the shining black visor, but Stalker saw meaning and emotion in his body language that no one else could ever decipher.

"Listen," Stalker said gently. "You know he's going to be there, right?"

Snake Eyes nodded.

"He probably realized it was you, even with your mask on. He would have recognized your fighting style."

Snake Eyes did not nod this time, but his shoulders drooped ever so slightly.

Stalker weighed his words very carefully. "If you see him, you can't let your feelings get in the way. Whatever happened between the two of you, that's all in the past now. He's not the same person anymore, Snake."

Duke announced over the intercom for everyone to meet up in the garage and get ready to leave. Snake Eyes sighed and stood up, taking a deep breath, his arms straight at his sides.

"He would have killed Hawk," Stalker reminded him. "And he damn near killed me. Don't think that he won't try to kill you too, if he gets the chance. If you have to fight him again, you're going to have to accept that."

Snake Eyes let out his breath slowly, shaking his head almost imperceptibly. But Stalker knew what he was thinking.

"You don't have a choice, Snake. I know you think of him like a brother. But he's our enemy now. And he's not going to surrender, you know he won't. If you fight him again, you're going to have to fight to win. And if he won't back down, and you have no choice, you're going to have to kill him."


	29. Chapter Twenty Eight

Chapter Twenty-Eight

"Yes, I see. Of course. Well, I appreciate the fact that you're being so forthcoming."

Destro leaned back in his seat, pursing his lips as he held the cell phone to his ear. With his other hand, he absentmindedly picked at the arm of his office chair. He listened for a few moments and then leaned forward again.

"I'll keep it in mind," he said curtly. "But I'm making no promises. You're giving me this information free of charge."

He paused, and then, "You'll hear from me. Yes, goodbye."

He ended the phone call and set the cell phone on his desk. Looking down at the phone with a scowl of disapproval, he sat back and looked out the window. His gaze travelled across the office, to the glass antique case to his right. Detailed with golden trim along the edges of the dark brown mahogany wood, the case contained several priceless family artifacts.

Sitting inside the case, on a red velvet pedestal, was a somewhat battered metal mask with two tiny eye holes, a corroded metal band across the front of it. If he looked closely, Destro could have seen tiny strands of human hair still stuck through the seams.

"Damn it," he muttered, grabbing the phone back off the desk.

With an angry huff, he got up and walked over to the wall beside the antique case and pressed a section of wall. It slid back and then to the side, revealing a hidden hallway beyond. Destro entered the corridor and approached another tall glass case, where other items awaited him.

His mask was not battered and damaged like the other one. It gleamed brightly in the light of the corridor, beckoning to him. Beside it was a thick black trenchcoat, as well as rows of weapons hanging on plastic frames.

Destro took out the mask and held it in his hands. Not just a simple method of concealing his identity, the mask meant more to him than that. It was a tradition, a birthright. He set the mask inside a black leather case and donned the trenchcoat, concealing several small automatic weapons inside its deep pockets.

He pulled out the phone and dialed. The voice of the Baroness spoke to him after a single ring.

"Yes, James?"

Picking up the case containing his mask, he continued down the corridor to an elevator at the end.

"Zartan just called me," he said. "He gave me Cobra's current location. They are no longer in New York, they've retreated to a small town in Kansas."

"What do you want to do?"

"We must get there before the military does. I am concerned that Cobra Commander may give them information about me if he is captured."

"Is that all, James?"

Destro hit the down button with the back of his hand. "I trust neither Cobra nor the American military," he said in a low voice. "I think it would be in all of our bests interests if certain information did not survive the attack. I think you know what I am talking about."

"Of course I do."

"I am coming down now. Assemble the Grenadiers."

"Yes, James."

Destro slid the phone into his pocket and stepped out as soon as the doors opened. He was in an underground basement, and a handful of soldiers met him at the entrance to the hangar. They wore black and red body armor, complete with facemasks to hide their faces. Like all of Destro's personal guard, they were highly trained military commandos armed with the most advanced weaponry openly available. However, they were not the highest ranks of Destro's army, merely the largest.

Baroness met him at the hangar. She stood in the middle of a crowd of soldiers standing in rows, looking at him with a barely contained smile on her face. She wore tall boots and black leather pants, with large holsters at her thighs. Underneath her long black leather trenchcoat, she wore black body armor with silver clasps. As Destro approached, Baroness slid a pair of reflective glasses on her face. In her other hand was an Uzi submachine gun.

The Grenadiers were Destro's most elite troops, the strongest and most loyal of his large army of trained soldiers. They stood protectively around the Baroness, their metallic black and red armor glinting in the light of the underground hangar. They had bulky leg armor with large black boots, thick and ornate torso body armor with bright red shoulder pads and a red stripe from their right shoulder to their left hip. Their helmets were black with a red mouthpiece, their eyes concealed with shining black visors, and the edges of their helmet and shoulder pads were also lined with gold trim. In their arms were long black assault rifles known as Falconets, named after the miniature cannons built and sold by Destro's ancestors during the English Civil War.

"Are you ready?" Destro asked.

The Baroness nodded. "Ready and waiting for your orders."

"There is no time to lose," Destro said. "Men, get loaded on the helicopters."

The Grenadiers saluted him sharply and quickly boarded the four black customized Russian Mi-24 attack helicopters parked in the hangar. Immediately, the ceiling opened up above them, letting midday sunlight shine down upon them. A section of ceiling 150 feet long retracted back across the open field just outside the main building of the M.A.R.S. facility to reveal the helicopters hidden below.

Destro got into one of the helicopters and extended his hand. The Baroness smiled and took it, and he pulled her aboard. Four Grenadiers got in with them, and quickly closed the sliding door and buckled themselves in.

"Set course for Springfield, Kansas," Destro announced over the interior intercom. "Use the navigation records to find it."

"Yes, Lord Destro," the pilot replied.

"How did Zartan get this information?" the Baroness asked.

"He wouldn't tell me. He probably dressed up like a CIA agent and waltzed right into a top secret meeting at Langley."

"I guess he has his uses after all."

"I'm surprised to hear you say that," Destro commented.

The four copters rose into the air and soared across the M.A.R.S. compound, bearing south. They were nearly invisible to radar and their rotors were engineered to run as silently as possible, and Destro was confident that even a satellite scan of the area would not reveal their departure. Their existence was a closely-guarded secret, although M.A.R.S. possessed even more advanced aircraft at Destro's family estate in Scotland.

"What are we going to to do when we arrive?" the Baroness asked.

"Find that serum they've concocted and destroy it."

The Baroness smiled again and put her hand on Destro's arm. "I'm glad we're doing this, James. Despite the risks."

Destro nodded to himself and gazed out the small, circular side window. The risks they were taking were great indeed. He was certain that they would arrive in Springfield before the military, but Zartan had made it clear that the military was on its way at that moment. They might only have hours, or less, before the military arrived as well. And once that happened, all bets were off. Destro was not entirely sure that he wanted to order his men to attack American soldiers, for a number of reasons. And once the military arrived, the chance of Destro and his Grenadiers being able to escape without capture became much more difficult as well.

The Baroness gently took the silver mask out of its leather case and placed it over Destro's head. Now, he was ready to go to war.


	30. Chapter Twenty Nine

Chapter Twenty-Nine

The pilot's voice came over the intercom. "Sir, we're approaching the drop zone. ETA, two minutes."

"Copy that," Duke said into his helmet microphone. Inside the C-17 Globemaster transport aircraft, the entire team was armed and ready for their arrival in Springfield. Both of their MPAV jeeps were strapped in and loaded for bear.

Snake Eyes and Scarlett were waiting at the rear of the plane. They had been waiting there for the entire duration of the two-hour trip from Andrews Air Force Base to the middle of Kansas. At over 515 miles an hour, the Globemaster aircraft made it a short trip, but the team was still anxious to arrive.

From across the cargo area of the plane, Duke spoke to Snake Eyes and Scarlett through the helmet mics. "You're good to go," he said, giving them a thumbs up. "Your drop zone is about a mile from the north side of the town. We'll keep in constant contact with you. Good luck."

They waved goodbye to the rest of the team and Snake Eyes hit a switch on the wall. The rear door opened with a whoosh and they jumped out without delay. Shipwreck closed the doors after them.

Duke walked to the cockpit of the plane and leaned inside. From out the front window, he saw clear blue sky. Unlike their previous night mission, Snake Eyes and Scarlett would not be able to parachute invisibly to their location. Anyone watching the sky would easily see them, but Duke did not anticipate that any Cobra agents would be watching the sky that far from the town, and even if they were, there was not much they could do anyway. Duke just hoped that if they were detected on the way down, Snake Eyes and Scarlett were still able to enter the town without being seen. But if anyone on the Joe team knew how to not be seen, it was Snake Eyes.

"We've already started our descent, right?" Duke asked.

"Yes, sir," the pilot said. "We'll be landing in about twelve minutes. We have to circle around first because the landing strip runs east-west."

"Okay, we'll be ready."

The pilot looked up at him. "Can I ask a question, sir? I was not given your name or your rank, and I'm curious."

"Sorry, Captain," Duke said. "Our unit is classified."

The pilot nodded to himself. "You know, this is the second time I've flown you guys someplace this week. I flew some of your men to New York a couple days ago."

"You did a good job for us," Duke said. "We appreciate the hard work."

"If you're a classified unit, I'm surprised you don't have dedicated pilots and crew to fly your missions," the pilot said. "You know, I'm looking to transfer pretty soon. If you need a pilot for your team, I'd love to apply."

"Well, if this mission goes off without a hitch," Duke said, "I'm sure the Pentagon will increase our budget. Right now we don't have the facilities for our own pilots or aircraft, but I'll certainly pass your name on to my Commanding Officer."

"I'm Captain Brad Armbruster, but my friends call me Ace."

Duke patted him on the shoulder. "I'll tell my CO to contact you," he promised. "If the possibility opens up, your name will be first on the list."

"Thanks a lot, sir," Captain Armbruster said. "You better get settled back there, Sir. We'll be landing in just a few minutes."

Duke returned to the cargo area of the plane and told the team that they were about to land. Gung-Ho and Shipwreck finished their checks on the weapons, while Heavy Duty climbed up into the gunner position in one of the MPAVs, his XM250C Minigun already attached to the metal frame buckled around his waist. He hefted the weight of the gun appreciatively, looked down at Duke, and nodded in satisfaction.

"Everything is good to go," Gung-Ho said.

"Alright," Duke said, "Everyone on board."

They packed into both MPAVs. Clutch drove the first jeep, with Breaker in the passenger seat, running the computer, Short Fuze in the rear seat, and Heavy Duty up in the gunner position. Duke got into the driver's seat of the second MPAV, with Shipwreck seated beside him, and Gung-Ho up in the gunner position, buckling himself into place. And resting comfortably in the rear seat was General Hawk.

"I thought you were going to keep Stalker company back at the Pit," Duke said as he got inside and out on his seat belt.

Hawk shrugged. Unlike the rest of the team, he was not wearing combat gear, and was dressed in his military uniform. "I didn't want to miss all the excitement," he said with a smile. "Stalker will be fine. Doc Greer is looking after him."

"You're gonna drive us again?" Shipwreck asked. "Are you gonna go twenty miles under the speed limit, like last time?"

Gung-Ho stuck his head down to speak to them. "Hey Shipwreck, you haven't been in a vehicle with Clutch yet. Trust me, I'd rather have Duke drive."

Captain Armbruster's voice came over the intercom. "We're about to land. I'll open the rear doors as soon as we stop."

"Thank you, Captain," Duke said into his mic.

A few moments later, the plane touched down, and the team was rattled in their seats momentarily. The rear doors began to open as soon as the plane came to a complete stop.

"Breaker, you have our position on the GPS?" Duke asked.

"Yep," Breaker replied. "I know exactly where we are."

"Good. Hey Clutch, I'll be following you, so try to keep it under a hundred miles an hour, okay?"

"I'll do my best, sir," Clutch said with a chuckle.

The moment the rear doors hit the ground, the locks that held the MPAVs in place loudly clicked off, and Clutch roared out of the back of the plane, Duke close behind him.

Their landing zone was at a small local airstrip in the middle of nowhere, about thirty miles from Springfield. Duke would have preferred to land closer to their target, but there was simply nowhere else that the Globemaster was able to land. Even this airstrip was not ideal, since it was not even paved, but the Globemaster was capable of rougher landings than commercial aircraft.

Dirt shot out from under their tires as they sped across the runway. Several FBI vans were at the entrance to the airfield, waiting for them. Duke spoke to the FBI agents through the helmet microphone, and they drove straight to the main road without even slowing down. The FBI quickly followed after them.

"How many agents are on site?" Duke asked.

"We have fifty agents just outside the town limits," came the reply. "Everything is quiet, they haven't seen anything out of the ordinary."

"That probably means that Cobra knows we're coming."

"We've ordered our men not to enter the town until you arrive, sir."

"Good idea. How are they armed?"

"All the agents are wearing body armor, and we have assault rifles and combat shotguns, sir. We are prepared for a firefight."

"Let's hope it doesn't come to that," Duke said, but he didn't think that Cobra was just going to let them waltz in and arrest them. Duke expected serious resistance, as they had prepared for, but he kept his worries to himself.

They zoomed down the long, straight road at about 80 miles an hour, as the asphalt road was too rough to go much faster. Breaker kept them informed of their position the entire time, using the GPS system to calculate their estimated time of arrival and current location. Behind them followed the line of black SUVs. No other cars were on the road.

"Duke," Breaker said through the mic, "Snake Eyes and Scarlett are in position."

"Patch me through."

"Sure thing."

"Scarlett, this is Duke. Where are you right now?"

Scarlett's voice was kind of scratchy over the radio. "We're just beyond a big field north of the target," she replied in a low voice. "We can see buildings in the distance. But there doesn't seem to be anyone there."

"Continue to the town and scout ahead. We'll be there in about ten minutes. You know what we're up against, so be careful."

"Yes, sir."

"Duke!" Breaker shouted suddenly. "We have company!"

"What are you talking about?"

"Combat helicopters, four of them! They just came out of nowhere, and they certainly aren't ours!"

"Where?" Duke snapped.

"Springfield! They just arrived at the town. We have reports of gunfire!"

"Are they shooting at the federal agents?"

"No," Breaker said incredulously. "They're opening fire on the town!"

"What's our ETA?"

"Seven minutes."

"Clutch, forget what I said about going slow," Duke said. "Go as fast as you can!"

"Yes, sir!" Clutch shouted excitedly.

They shot down the country road as if propelled with jet engines, the FBI trucks left in the dust behind them. Duke had to slam his foot to the floor to keep up with Clutch, and the vehicle skidded around the asphalt surface of the road as if it was hydroplaning. But Duke kept it on the road, and within five minutes, they were approaching the town of Springfield.

The main highway into the town was a simple two-lane road with faded yellow lane markers, and tall trees on each side, the grass along the berm having not been mown in years. Up in the distance, they could make out buildings in the valley the town was built in, and Duke could see the helicopters hovering over the downtown area.

"Breaker, tell the FBI to keep their distance!" Duke ordered.

"Way ahead of you, sir. They're reporting that armed soldiers dropped from the helicopters, but they have not opened fire on them."

"Get ready, everyone."

The MPAVs roared down the road and into town, passing by more FBI vehicles parked just on the outskirts, the armed agents taking cover behind their SUVs. Duke slammed on the brakes and the MPAV screeched to a halt, rocking back and forth.

Duke turned to face the rear seat. "Hawk, I'm going to have to ask you to get out, sir. I don't feel safe taking you into the middle of this."

"You're absolutely right," Hawk said. "This is close enough for me."

He opened the door and climbed out, but before walking over to the FBI agents, he poked his head back through the window and said, "Good luck, all of you. Be safe out there. We've had enough close calls already. I don't want to see anyone getting hurt." He turned to look meaningfully at Duke. "Duke, you're in command now."

"Yes, sir," Duke said with a nod.

They took off after Clutch, who was now far ahead of them. Gung-Ho flipped the safety on the .50 caliber machine gun, and Shipwreck cradled an M4 Carbine in his lap. In moments, they drove right down toward the center of the town, with large, empty-looking warehouses on each side of the highway, and a desolate gas station sitting nearby. The MPAV skidded to a halt beside the other one, which was parked sideways across the road.

Heavy Duty was already out of the vehicle, swinging his Minigun in a wide arc. Short Fuse ran up beside him, a huge rocket-launcher system propped up on his shoulder, and an assault rifle slung over his other arm.

They could hear the booming echo of loud gunfire already, the huge black helicopters were only a couple hundred yards away, hovering up above nearby buildings. Duke jumped out, swinging up an HK416 assault rifle, and both Shipwreck and Gung-Ho came out after him. Clutch and Breaker were on the other side of their vehicle, armed with M-16s. Breaker was shouting into his microphone and glancing up at the helicopters, while Clutch kneeled down, aiming the gun across the hood. Duke and the others ran up beside them, surveying the area in front of them.

The road continued forward for a little ways before splitting off to the left and right. All around them, the town appeared abandoned, with waist-high grass in most of the yards, and the buildings looking old and run down. They were still on the edge of the town, and only a few scattered buildings were along the road. Most of the town's buildings and homes were ahead of them.

"Alright, Joes," Duke said, "Let's do this."


	31. Chapter Thirty

_I wanted to get two chapters done this week, but unfortunately I didn't have the time. Maybe next week. The opening part of this chapter was actually much longer, but I cut out about half of Cobra Commander's speech cause I thought it was too long and repetitive. Hopefully you are all happy to see the big battle in Springfield commence, as this is the climax of the entire novel. Feel free to leave reviews or other comments._

Chapter Thirty

Beneath the ghost town of Springfield, Kansas, there was a mazelike catacomb of tunnels, hallways, and hidden rooms. Most of the buildings on the surface connected to this underground complex through secret doors in their basements, and the combined area of the buried passages was almost as large as the area of the town itself.

Directly underneath the local school, where the Cobra agents had done most of their training, there was a line of connecting hallways that led to a large auditorium with a domed ceiling held up with tall pillars. The chamber was brightly lit with long rows of fluorescent lights, which currently shone down on a crowd of Cobra agents standing at attention. They wore blue uniforms with blue helmets and black facemasks across their mouths, leaving only their eyes visible.

At the front of the room, standing on a raised platform in front of a symbolic throne, Cobra Commander looked out across the sea of bodies. Behind him on the wall was a red Cobra emblem ten feet high, an artistic rendering of a striking snake with a cobra hood. Cobra Commander stood underneath it, as if bathing in its light.

"Today is the day," he announced in his deep, raspy voice. "Today is the day that we make our existence known to the world."

The people assembled in the room looked up expectantly at Cobra Commander, loyalty and adoration visible in their eyes. They remained silent, taking in his every word, their arms relaxed at their sides.

"Even as I speak to you right now," he intoned, "there are members of the FBI and even the US Army entering our special little town. They are not here to negotiate with us, they are here to shut us down. They have come here to silence us. They have come to our home to take from us everything that we have built here."

Cobra Commander walked along the edge of the platform, raising one hand and squeezing it into a tight fist. The room was so silent, that the sound of the fabric of his gloves stretching could almost be heard. The bright lights reflected off his silver faceplate, making his face appear blank white. The dark blue cape hanging from his shoulders swished noiselessly across the surface of the floor.

"We have come here to create a new world. To create a better world, free of the crime and corruption and decay that infests the rest of the globe. Our dream is a simple one, and like you, I would give anything to make that dream a reality."

He paused thoughtfully, and then his arm snapped out like a sword thrust, pointing into the crowd. "And they are trying to take it away from us!" he shrieked. "We are a threat to them, because we are free of their tyranny! We only want to be left alone, to have the chance to fulfill our dreams! And now they have come to stop us from achieving those dreams!"

He swept his arm across the room, his cape swirling behind him, and his followers watched his every move, completely transfixed.

"If we are to create a better world for ourselves, we must fight for our freedom! The government has come to destroy us, but they will not succeed! We must fight!"

The crowd shifted restlessly, almost twitching in anticipation. Some of them began to murmur to themselves, mimicking Cobra Commander's words.

"Some of you may not survive," Cobra Commander said gravely, his voice full of sadness and regret. "But what is freedom, without noble sacrifice? And when the world sees how the tyrants have attempted to silence us, and how we have brought to light their corruption and their oppression, your brave sacrifices will shine like a beacon across the world, a symbol to all those who dream of a better future. Our fight will continue, and our dream will prevail, even if some of you will not be there to bask in its glory. Your memory, and your sacrifice, will live on forever."

With raised hands, the followers shouted and cheered, their combined voices like a deafening roar in the enclosed chamber. Cobra Commander spread his arms and tilted his head back, feeling the energy of the crowd as it washed over him.

"Now go and fight!" he shouted. "Fight for the glory of Cobra!"

"COBRA!" the crowd cried out.

They surged back through the rear doors of the auditorium, pushing and shoving to be the first ones out the door. Beyond the room was a long corridor lined with weapon racks and shelves lined with ammunition and supplies. As the Cobra soldiers ran down the corridor, they grabbed AK-47s off the racks, and stuck extra magazines in their pockets.

Major Bludd stood at the end of the hallway, directing the troops down a series of adjacent hallways that led to different buildings on the surface. He wore a dark brown combat uniform with silver buttons and buckles, black leather boots, and a holster harness strapped across his chest, with two huge Desert Eagle pistols hanging at his sides. A sleek black helmet was on his head, and a USAS-12 automatic shotgun was propped up on his shoulder.

The Cobra troopers, armed and ready for combat, raced down the dim hallways to stairways that led to the buildings above, the echo of Cobra Commander's words ringing in their minds. Squad Captains and Officers met them when they reached the surface and directed them outside.

Like ants spilling from a disturbed anthill, the Cobra soldiers flooded out into the open, emerging from houses and businesses all around the center of town. They immediately took defensive positions around corners and behind parked cars and trucks, assault rifles steady in their hands, their eyes scanning the area.

Four long black helicopters, with gattling guns and rocket launchers hanging threateningly from side ports, emerged from the clouds and descended upon the town. Their black rotors chopped the air and gave off a buzzing noise like huge, aggressive hornets. Finally seeing with their own eyes the enemies that Cobra Commander has long warned them of, the Cobra troopers stared up in shock and raised their guns uncertainly.

Major Bludd barreled his way out of a nearby house and shouted at the soldiers. "Come on! Are you just going to stand there?" he barked, pointing up at the incoming helicopters.

Gunshots rang out, a few scattered shots at first, and then a steady blast of continuous gunfire into the sky. Two of the helicopters swerved away and then their own guns opened up with an ear-splitting roar, sending a wave of bullets down to the ground. Windows shattered in dazzling sprays of glass, chunks of wood and brick were blown apart, leaving gaping holes in walls and storefronts, and the unpaved road trembled with impacts, sprays of dirt shooting up into the air, leaving baseball-sized craters in the ground.

The Cobra soldiers scattered and regrouped as long black nylon ropes were dropped from the helicopters, and armored soldiers began to rappel down, assault rifles slung over their brown shoulders. They hit the ground and immediately spread out, opening fire with their weapons, advancing on the Cobra troops. The guns boomed like cannons, sending more broken glass and rubble raining down on the defensive Cobra soldiers as they hunkered down behind cars and low walls.

Major Bludd rushed forward and opened fire with his USAS-12 shotgun. The heavy piece of military weaponry unloaded with blasts of buckshot in rapid succession, as the gun was fully automatic. Bludd knelt down behind a blue pickup truck with the tires already blown out, and leaned out to open fire.

"Destro, you sneaky little bugger," Bludd muttered to himself, recognizing the Grenadiers, Destro's personal army. "Should've known you'd pull a double-cross like this."

When one of the Grenadiers emerged from around the side of a building, Bludd opened fire. The Grenadier reeled backwards as the first blast struck him square in the chest, the second one knocking him clean off his feet, tearing off a gaping chuck of his body armor.

Watching the first invader go down was like a catalyst for the Cobra soldiers. They surged forward and opened fire on the Grenadiers and the helicopters, which were laying down more lines of heavy gunfire.

From behind Major Bludd came more Cobra troops, some of them the specialty troops that Cobra Commander had insisted upon. In particular, two of them were anti-aircraft troopers armed with rocket launchers. One of them hunched down in the middle of the street and fired off his rocket, which shot into the sky with a scream of smoke.

The attack helicopter in front swerved to the side as the rocket streaked past it, soaring high into the sky and missing its target. The other helicopters immediately took evasive action, anticipating more rockets. They lowered their altitude until they were barely above the tops of the nearby buildings, their guns still opening fire.

More Grenadiers rappelled down from the other copters to join their teammates. And along with the heavily-armored Grenadiers, another figure slid down a rope as well. The Baroness, having discarded her long black trenchcoat, rappelled down to the ground, her long brown hair whipped and waving across her face.

She hit the ground in a solid crouch and unhooked the rappel line, drawing her Uzi in one hand and pointing at the Grenadiers with the other while shouting orders. Her form-fitting black body armor gleamed in the afternoon sunlight, and the reflective sunglasses on her face showing her surroundings. All around her, plants waved violently back and forth and dust swirled around from the buffeting wind from the copter rotors, but the Baroness barely seemed to notice it. She stood up and marched straight out into the open as bullets zipped through the air around her.

She raised the Uzi and casually opened fire, a bright orange muzzle flash erupting from the barrel. Cobra soldiers crouching along the side of a nearby row of small offices had to run for cover. The Grenadiers rushed forward, advancing down the main street, facing off against the Cobra soldiers, who outnumbered them by at least three-to-one.

Bullets filled the air as both sides fired back and forth. Buildings up and down the street were riddled with bullets, their windows shot out, and vehicles parked along the street were blown to pieces by the constant gunfire. The entire street was pockmarked with tiny craters from the helicopter guns.

Major Bludd peeked over the top of the pickup truck, watching the Baroness as she led her forces toward him.

"Hey, darling! I knew someday you would come crawling back to me!" he shouted mockingly, jumping up to open fire.

The Baroness took cover around the side of a building as the shotgun tore chucks out of the corner. The Grenadiers returned fire, but Bludd ran across the street and dove into an empty gas station. He laughed as bullets blew out the windows and covered him in glass.

Across the street, the Baroness shouted more orders to the Grenadiers, the constant barrage of gunfire almost drowning out her voice. "They are nothing but amateurs!" she snapped. "You've faced worse than this a hundred times! Our target is the school at the end of the street! Now let's move!"

She leaned out and opened fire with her Uzi to provide covering fire as the Grenadiers advanced once more. The Cobra troops, although more numerous, were still not fully trained with their weapons, and many of them were unable to hit what they aimed at. Many more of them retreated as soon as they were fired upon, and were too scared to counter-attack.

The Baroness glanced back down the main street, in the direction they had come, where the buildings were more scattered. In the distance, coming down the main highway into town, she could see two gray vehicles driving toward the town at a high rate of speed.

She touched her ear to activate her microphone. "Destro," she said, shouting over the sound of gunfire. "It looks like they got here faster than we thought. What do you want us to do about them?"

When the answer came, she nodded to herself and ran across an open parking lot to where more of the Grenadiers were taking shots at a team of Cobra soldiers.

"Government forces are about to arrive," she shouted. "They are not here for us, they're here for Cobra. Do not engage them! Continue on our mission!"


	32. Chapter Thirty One

_Here is the new chapter this week, starring Snake Eyes and Scarlett. I hope everyone likes the way I handled the action sequences, I know sometimes long action scenes can get repetitive and confusing, so I tried to keep the descriptions simple. I also tried to keep the violence as understated as possible, although it's hard to be subtle about violence when people are getting killed. Sorry about not getting this chapter out last week, but I have been incredibly busy with work and other stuff, and didn't have any time to write at all._

Chapter Thirty-One

Snake Eyes and Scarlett ran across the open field, crouching down to try to stay concealed among the tall grass. Up ahead of them, there was a row of small buildings along one of the side streets through Springfield. The main street, where the sound of shooting was coming from, was to their left, and it didn't seem like anyone was standing guard at all.

Huge piles of broken wooden pallets and crushed cardboard boxes were stacked up next to some battered dumpsters, and they stopped momentarily to catch their breath, hiding behind the trash.

Snake Eyes cradled a Heckler and Koch UMP45 submachine gun in his hands as he peered down the dusty avenue. Twin Glocks were strapped to his hips, as well as a line of spare clips, and his katana sword was also strapped across his back.

Behind him, Scarlett spoke into her microphone. "Breaker, this is Scarlett," she whispered in a low voice, touching her hand to her ear. "Where is the team? We can hear gunfire ahead."

"We're still on the edge of town," Breaker replied. "They're not shooting at us, they're shooting at a bunch of helicopters that just showed up. We don't know what's going on. Proceed with caution."

"Copy that," Scarlett replied. Snake Eye's radio was connected with hers, so she didn't have to relay any information to him.

They crept down the street, keeping along the back of the abandoned homes and buildings, the unmown grass coming up to their waists. They passed a dark, empty convenience store and a church with the front doors barred, and saw a few abandoned trucks parked in the front lot, their tires flat and weeds sprouting up from cracks in the concrete.

Scarlett was not used to sneaking around in the middle of the day, feeling very exposed in this deserted neighborhood, since there were few places to hide and both she and Snake Eyes were sticking out like a sore thumb. Like Snake Eyes, she was wearing her tight black uniform, with a pack around her waist containing smoke grenades and other equipment. Her shuriken blades were concealed in her sleeve, and her mini-crossbow was also hanging over her arm. However, she was currently armed with a more standard Colt 9mm SMG submachine gun, the short stock pressed against her shoulder.

When they approached within a hundred yards of the main street, the sound of constant, uninterrupted gunfire was all around. Scarlett could make out at least four different guns all firing at once, the most recognizable of which was the unmistakable sound of AK-47s, but there was at least one loud gun being fired that she could not identify. They could also hear the pounding thrum of helicopter rotors, although they could see any of them in the air yet.

Snake Eyes skirted the edge of a house on the corner of two side streets and emerged into the open, his gun raised, Scarlett right on his heels.

Up ahead of them, half a dozen soldiers wearing blue uniforms with bright red Cobra symbols on their chests stood around, firing randomly in the other direction. One of them happened to turn around and catch sight of Snake Eyes as he snuck out into the open, and began shouting wildly.

As the others spun around and began to open fire, Snake Eyes crouched steadily and popped off a few shots, hitting two of the Cobra agents and taking them down. Scarlett jumped across the small yard and dove for cover behind the front porch, bracing herself as bullets struck the thick wooden posts and off the railing. Above her, the front windows shattered.

"We are under fire!" she shouted into her mic.

Snake Eyes barely moved, taking careful aim as he returned fire. The Cobra soldiers were not well-trained, and simply waved their guns around as they pulled the trigger, spraying bullets wildly all over the place. Dirt burst up around Snake Eyes' feet and he could hear bullets striking the front of the house behind him.

Scarlett jumped up and opened fire, hitting another Cobra soldier, who went down crying out in pain. The last two Cobra soldiers ran off, leaving their fallen comrades behind, and Snake Eyes immediately ran forward.

Scarlett ran after him, looking apprehensively down the street. She could see dozens more armed, uniformed Cobra troopers lining up and shooting at some other target farther down the street where she couldn't see. The retreating soldiers were yelling and trying to get their attention.

One of the wounded Cobra soldiers was fumbling for the pistol at his hip when Snake Eyes got to him and kicked the gun away, aiming his submachine gun directly down at the man's masked face. Scarlett saw that he had been shot in the leg; he was in a lot of pain, but he would survive. The others lying around were not so lucky.

"You'll never defeat us!" he grunted through clenched teeth, clutching at his wounded leg with his other hand, blood seeping in between his fingers. "We are on the side of truth!"

"Shut up!" Scarlett snapped. "Who are you taking orders from? Tell us where we can find him!"

"I'm not telling you anything! Go ahead and kill me!"

Snake Eyes swung his gun around and struck down with the stock, right between the man's eyes. He flopped against the ground and went limp.

Scarlett grabbed Snake Eyes' arm and pulled him away as more troopers saw them and began shooting. They darted in between two more small houses as bullets sprayed across the yard and house.

"We are under heavy fire!" Scarlett cried. "We need back up right now!"

"We're on our way!" Breaker promised. "I have you on the GPS, just keep going in that direction. Most of the resistance is behind you."

Snake Eyes turned around and opened fire as he ran backwards, and the Cobra troops coming after them ducked for cover. Scarlett ran to a nearby wooden fence and vaulted over it, throwing a concussion grenade over her shoulder as Snake Eyes dropped down beside her. They took off across an adjacent yard as the grenade went off, followed by screams of pain by the Cobra troops who got caught in the blast.

Stray bullets struck nearby walls and windows as they bolted across the tall grass, in between long-abandoned homes. They ran out into the next street, seeing more Cobra troops down at the end of the block, still engaged in combat with their other enemy.

"Have you figured out who they're fighting with?" Scarlett asked as she and Snake Eyes ran across the street to the empty parking lot on the other side.

"No, we have no idea. Some kind of private mercenary force," Breaker replied.

Duke's voice clicked on. "Scarlett, there's a large building down at the end of the block, just west of where you are right now. Do you see it?"

"Hold on," she replied.

As they ran down a dirty alley behind a row of businesses, more Cobra soldiers came at them. Scarlett ran forward and opened fire, a bright muzzle flash bursting from the barrel. Gunfire came from all around, and she dropped down inside a shallow doorway, taking cover as bullets blasted across the peeling paint of the back wall. She stuck her arm out and returned fire but could not see what she was shooting at.

Snake Eyes let go of his Heckler and Koch when it clicked empty, letting it swing down from the strap around his shoulder, and immediately raised one of the Glock18s holstered at his hip. The small pistol roared out a blast of constant gunfire, a stream of bullet casings sailing to the side. Two of the Cobra agents went down screaming, and the others instinctively ducked for cover.

When the gun was empty, Snake Eyes ran at Scarlett and slammed his foot into the door, breaking open the frame and knocking the door open. More gunfire blew across the doorway as they both rushed inside.

The inside of the building was dark, since there was no electricity, but light shone in the front windows, giving them enough light to see by. They raced through the empty building as Cobra soldiers fired through the doorway. Scarlett tossed down another concussion grenade to block their escape.

They reached another door and Snake Eyes barely slowed down as he slammed his way through, bringing them back outside. The grenade inside detonated, blowing out all the windows in a roaring spray of glass. Two Cobra soldiers standing nearby ducked down as the windows shattered, giving Scarlett time to ship up her crossbow and shoot them. One of them managed to fire his gun before he collapsed, but the bullets went wide.

They ran down the alley and back out to the street, taking a few seconds to reload their guns. Snake Eyes popped a new clip into the Heckler and Koch and Scarlett did the same for her Colt.

"We see the building," Scarlett said. "It looks like a school or something."

"See if you can get inside," Duke said, "We think that's their base of operations. It will be heavily guarded, so don't take any chances. We'll be there as fast as we can."

"Yes, sir," Scarlett said.

They ran across more empty yards and past a few abandoned homes, and reached the front of the school. There didn't seem to be any guards there at all, since most of the Cobra agents were still engaged in combat farther down the street.

They ran around the side of the building, staying far away from the front doors, and entered through a broken window on the south side. Inside was an empty classroom, with a few dusty desks stacked in a corner and the smell of mildew in the air.

They made their way out of the room and down the long hallway. Scarlett said quietly into her mic, "Duke, we're in the school, and there doesn't seem to be anything here."

"Copy," Duke said.

Almost as soon as she spoke, two Cobra troopers suddenly ran out from around the corner, their heavy boots clomping loudly on the wooden floor. Unlike the other Cobra soldiers with blue uniforms, these soldiers wore metallic black body armor complete with shoulder attachments like medieval pauldrons, and heavy thigh and shin armor as well. Their helmets were sloped forward like a right triangle, leaving a narrow gap of reflective black plastic serving as their visor.

Scarlett dove into another classroom as the booming echo of gunfire erupted across the hallway, the shockwave from the muzzle flash knocking dust off the walls. The Cobra soldiers used a bullpup assault rifle similar to a Steyr AUG, and flashes burst from the short barrels, the guns blasting loudly in the confined hallway. The door frame exploded in a whirlwind of splinters, and Scarlett turned to the side as the shrapnel whipped past her face.

Snake Eyes moved in a blur, running forward as the wall behind him exploded with bullet impacts, sending splinters of wood and fragments of plaster flying at him like hail. He squeezed off a burst of gunfire, striking the first Cobra soldier in the center of the chest, knocking him backwards but not harming him.

In one impossibly fluid motion, he let his machine gun drop down and flip underneath his arm, while spinning around and grabbing the handle of his katana blade with the other hand, pulling the long blade free of the sheath strapped across his back, and continued his forward momentum to swing the blade out, diving toward the armored soldier like a mounted knight wielding a lance.

The tip of the blade struck right in the center of the soldier's black visor and stabbed right through. The other soldier turned awkwardly to the side, continuing his constant barrage of gunfire, as Snake Eyes let go of his sword and grabbed the now limp body, turning it in front of him like a human shield.

Scarlett came out of the classroom and opened fire, her bullets rattling off the soldier's armor like rubber bands bouncing off a tin can. He stumbled to the side and swung his gun up to shoot back at her, but just as he aimed, the gun ran out of bullets. He slammed the gun down on Snake Eyes, who fell to the ground with the dead soldier landing on top of him, the sword still sticking out of the visor.

The other soldier pulled out a pistol and aimed at Snake Eyes, but Scarlett ran at him with her finger on the trigger and shot the gun right out of his hand. Before he had time to get out of her way, she jumped at him and landed a kick right to the front of his helmet, snapping his head back and knocking him completely off-balance.

Even as he crashed to the floor, he immediately grabbed for the other assault rifle dropped by his dead companion. Scarlett regained her footing and aimed her rifle down at the soldier at almost point-blank range.

"Don't do it!" she shouted, her hair hanging down on front of her face.

The soldier grabbed the gun and tried to aim it at her, but Scarlett pulled the trigger and put a three-round burst right into his visor. The soldier slumped down flat on his back, his arms falling to his sides. His head slipped to the side and blood dripped from the jagged hole in the visor.

Snake Eyes got up, yanked his sword free, and glanced down at the two dead soldiers for just a moment before heading off. Scarlett sighed and brushed her hair out of her face, shaking her head. She snapped a new clip into her gun before following him

Anyone in their right mind would have surrendered if they had a gun to their face. But the soldier had still tried to grab a gun to defeat them, even though there was no chance. Scarlett had him dead to rights, but he still went for the gun even though he knew it meant certain death. The man had literally thrown his life away rather than surrender.

Scarlett knew that cults could bend the minds and will of the people sucked into them, but she had the feeling that Cobra was far more than just a simple cult. They had expected resistance, but nothing on this scale. And knowing what they did about the work of men like Dr. Bogdanovich, the reality of the situation became more clear.

Not far down the hall, Snake Eyes discovered a stairwell leading underground. Scarlett followed him down.


	33. Chapter Thirty Two

_Sorry for not updating last week, but I have just been crazy busy lately. I just now finished this new chapter, so it might sound a bit choppy. _

_The battle for Springfield continues as the Joe team fights their way through the town._

Chapter Thirty-Two

All around them, the battle raged. The air was a deadly minefield of flying bullets, the ground and walls pockmarked and cratered with the evidence of constant gunfire. The small town of Springfield, once a silent, abandoned dot on a map, had turned into a war zone.

On one end of town, an army of blue-uniformed soldiers filled the streets, frantic and inexperienced, with more of them pouring out of nearby buildings every minute. At the other end of town, a smaller team of black-clad mercenaries with body armor and advanced weapons, heavily outnumbered but pushing their way down the bullet-riddled streets.

And stuck right in the middle of it, a small, elite team of military operatives pinned down by both sides.

Duke pressed his back into a crumbling storefront wall, taking a deep breath as he felt a wave of bullet impacts strike right around the corner. He squinted against the dust hanging in the air and peered across the street.

"Heavy Duty," he called into his microphone, "We need some back up over here."

"I'm coming," came the reply.

"Okay then," Duke said, getting into a crouch, pressing the stock of his HK416 firmly into his shoulder. "Short Fuse, move forward. Do me a favor and take out some of their positions. Clutch and Breaker, you two protect the rear."

A few feet away, kneeling behind a short stone wall, Shipwreck looked over at Duke and nodded, pointing up over the wall. Duke nodded back and leaned out from around the corner to open fire. He didn't hit anything he was aiming at, but the suppressing fire was enough to stop the Cobra soldiers in their tracks momentarily.

Shipwreck flipped himself over the wall and darted forward, spraying bullets across the street. As soon as he hit the pavement, Gung-Ho stood up and opened fire with a shout, his M-16 joining the sound of Duke's HK416. Cobra agents ran for cover, ducking behind doorways and down behind junk cars parked all around.

Two of the soldiers with black body armor appeared at the end of a parking lot farther down the street. Duke saw them and shouted to Gung-Ho, who ducked back down before they could open fire. But surprisingly, they did not shoot at Gung-Ho or Shipwreck, who was still out in the open. The soldiers hauled themselves across the nearest yard and kicked in a door to take cover inside an abandoned house.

Duke kept shooting as Shipwreck reached the other side of the street. He whipped out a grenade in each hand and tossed them around the corner. Duke shielded himself against the wall, clapping his hands over his ears as the concussion grenades went off with a trembling thud.

He glanced up to see Heavy Duty came out into the open from around the side of the next building. The huge machine gunner was like a cyborg out of the future, with the huge XM250C gattling gun strapped to his waist like a metal brace connected to his torso. He turned and squeezed the trigger, and a massive ripple of flame emerged from the spinning barrels.

"Oh yeah!" Heavy Duty roared, his voice barely audible over the sound of the gun.

A tremendous stream of bullets rampaged across the street, pouring from the rotating barrels at over 2,000 rounds a minute. Heavy Duty tilted the fixture attached to his metal brace and swept the gun back and forth, as a never-ending stream of empty bullet casings rained down around his feet. Thick belts hanging over his shoulders fed rounds into the gun, and the spinning barrels fired them toward the retreating Cobra troops at more than thirty per second.

One of the junk cars parked along the sidewalk blew apart when the gun tore into it, the bullets ripping through the rusted metal doors and riddling the Cobra soldiers hiding behind it. They collapsed to the ground as their teammates ran for cover.

Heavy Duty finally let his finger off the trigger and let out a deep breath, the gun now letting out nothing but a high-pitched whine as the barrels continued to spin. He walked out from a pile of smoking shell casings and made his way down the sidewalk, walking slowly because the gun was so heavy.

"Good shooting," Duke called out.

"Naw, man," Heavy Duty chuckled wearily, sweat dotting his forehead. "That was great shooting."

Duke spoke into his microphone again, "Short Fuse, where is our support?"

"Right behind you," Short Fuse said.

With a pop and a scream, Duke flinched as a rocket shot down across the open street and exploded with a deafening boom at the front steps of a nearby building. Short Fuse came into view, hauling a Jav2 missile system propped up on his shoulder.

"That's cheating, man," Heavy Duty said.

Short Fuse gave him a funny look. "What are you talking about? This thing is just as heavy as your Minigun, and I only get two shots with it."

He kneeled down, taking careful aim, and pressed the firing button on the front of the console. The rocket shot from the barrel with a flash and a cloud of smoke, and screamed down the avenue, blowing another car to pieces. The smoldering hulk crashed back down onto the street, spewing flame and black smoke.

"Let's go, team," Duke said. "We've got work to do. Snake Eyes and Scarlett are under heavy fire and we've got to reach them as soon as possible."

They ran down the now-empty street, passing by the dead bodies of numerous Cobra troops, giving them momentary glances, but trying not to focus on the death surrounding them. Duke knew that in the back of their minds, each member of the team knew that the people they were shooting at were not real members of an enemy army. Even though they were part of a terrorist organization like Cobra, they could not shake the fact that these people were American citizens.

As they approached the next intersection, more gunfire burst out around them, and they had to run for cover. Shipwreck and Gung-Ho took point and laid down a field of suppressing fire, giving Heavy Duty time to get to safety.

"Man, this thing is heavy," he grunted.

"It's got your name all over it," Short Fuse quipped.

Gung-Ho lowered his gun and pointed down the intersecting street as a group of soldiers came into view. "Hey Duke!" he shouted. "Somebody look familiar?"

Duke glanced out and saw that they were more of the soldiers in black body armor, except that the figure out in front was a woman with long brown hair and a skintight leather outfit. She stalked down the sidewalk as if she was immune to the bullets flying through the air, and effortlessly raised an Uzi submachine gun, spraying bullets at more retreating Cobra troopers.

"Well," Duke said, "I guess we know who the guys in black are." He called Breaker to relay the information as well.

Shipwreck ducked down behind another bullet-riddled wall and opened fire sporadically as more and more Cobra troops ran out into the street. The sound of gunfire was constant in the air, and Duke and the rest of the team had to take cover as the Cobra agents completely outnumbered them. They returned fire and held their positions, but the Cobra soldiers just kept coming.

"Jesus!" Shipwreck cried out, "How many more of these guys are there?"

"That's a good question," Gung-Ho answered. "I don't think we brought enough ammo with us. We shoot one, and five more spring up and take his place."

"Breaker," Duke said, "We can't hold them all back. We've cleared the edge of the town, so tell the FBI that they are clear to enter. We could use the back up."

"Copy that," Breaker replied.

"We will hold position as long as possible."

As the Cobra soldiers flooded into the open, the black-armored mercenaries returned fire as well. Duke realized that they were apparently fighting against Cobra only, as none of the mercenaries opened fire on the Joe team.

"What do we do about them?" Gung-Ho asked.

"As long as they don't fire on us, just leave them alone for now," Duke said. "We're here to stop Cobra. If they want to help us out, we could use the help."

Heavy Duty stomped out into the open and opened fire with his Minigun again, wreaking a trail of havoc along the avenue. Shipwreck and Gung-Ho added to the firepower, and then Duke and Short Fuse opened fire as well. The barrage of gunfire stopped Cobra and forced them back to safety, as more and more of them went down under the onslaught. Bodies fell to the street, left behind as their compatriots ran for cover.

"Let's go!" Duke called out. "Move forward!"


	34. Chapter Thirty Three

Chapter Thirty-Three

The Baroness ran through the tall grass, ducking her head down as bullets smacked against the wall, raining bits of wood and concrete down on her. She paused at the corner of the building and waved the Grenadiers forward while snapping a new clip into her Uzi. The Grenadiers ran past her, opening fire into the intersection and taking position along the sidewalk, standing right out in the open.

The seemingly infinite number of Cobra soldiers were forced back, leaving more dead sprawled across the pavement. Armed with regular AK-47s and barely trained in their use, the Cobra soldiers were no match for the highly-trained Grenadiers, whose body armor was more than able to take a few rifle rounds. The Cobra troops did not have such effective body armor – the Baroness didn't think they had any armor at all – and were far more vulnerable to the accurate gunfire from the Grenadiers.

Spotting the newly-arrived Army soldiers making their way down the adjacent street, the Baroness shouted into her microphone. "Do not engage the federal troops! We're here to fight Cobra! If the military engages you, fall back immediately!"

She brushed her long hair out of her face and ran across the open area in between the two buildings. Out in the street, there was a car on fire, sending a tower of black smoke into the air, and a dozen Cobra troops lay dead around it. More of them were gathered across the street, shooting at the Grenadiers, while even more were congregated at the opposite corner, protected behind some rock walls, currently shooting at the Army. Everywhere she looked, the Baroness saw more and more Cobra soldiers.

They had seriously underestimated the amount of resistance they were up against here. If they had known there were this many, they would have brought six helicopters and twice as many Grenadiers. However, even as incredibly outnumbered as they were, Destro's forces were holding their own, thanks to better equipment and better training.

The Baroness kicked open the back door of the nearest building and ran inside, finding it full of garbage and dusty wooden shelves. She hurried through the building to the front room and watched as half a dozen Cobra soldiers snuck along the front side to ambush the Grenadiers. She ran to the window and opened fire, waving her Uzi back and forth as the glass shattered in front of her, mowing down the Cobra troops. She ducked down as bullets rattled against the front of the building, and loaded another clip.

"Baroness," said Destro's voice in her ear.

"Yes?" she asked. "What is it?" She dared not use any names, lest someone overhear their conversation or manage to unscramble the radio frequency.

"How close are you to the objective?"

The Baroness poked her head up to look through the window. More Cobra soldiers were coming down the street, facing off against both the Army and the Grenadiers. Some of them were armed with rocket launchers, which fired off shots that screamed down the avenue and exploded in clouds of rubble and flame.

"Still a few blocks away. Cobra's forces are much larger than we expected."

"Yes, I can see that. I don't think we should continue the assault."

"Are you sure?" she asked. "What about the objective?"

"We can't risk capture," Destro replied. "And I don't want to risk open combat with the military. I am ordering the men to fall back and meet at the transport. We're leaving in ten minutes."

The Baroness sighed to herself, disappointed. "Yes, sir. I understand."

She looked up to see another Cobra soldier with a rocket launcher, this time aiming it at the building she was standing in. She jumped and ran back through the rooms as the rocket sped across the street and struck above the window frame. A blast of heat and wave of debris rocked the small building like an earthquake, nearly knocking the Baroness off her feet. She staggered out the back doors as a wave of smoke billowed out after her.

She coughed and looked around, seeing the Grenadiers begin to fall back. She hated the thought of giving up, especially when they were so close. But Destro knew what he was doing; she had to assume he had other plans for taking care of Cobra.

"Hiya there, beautiful," came a snarling voice behind her.

She spun around and dove to the side, firing wildly as an automatic shotgun boomed, blasting apart the door she'd been standing against. The door burst into a cloud of splinters, followed by a loud, vicious laugh.

"You'll have to do better than that, darling!" Major Bludd shouted.

The Baroness scrambled to her feet and bolted for cover, shooting behind her without aiming. She reached the house next door and ran behind the side the garage, gasping for breath. She peeked out and then stuck her arm out to shoot back.

There was a wrecked pickup truck parked along the sidewalk in front of the house, and an open field on the other side of the street. Already, the Grenadiers were heading back to the helicopters, leaving her behind. Destro had told her ten minutes, which were running out fast. She didn't have time for this, she had to go now.

She jumped out, aiming her Uzi back at the other building, but Major Bludd was not in sight. She looked back and forth, waving her gun in front of her, but no one was there.

Suddenly, a shadow passed over her, and Major Bludd dropped down from above, having jumped down from the top of the garage. He slammed into her and she flew to the ground. Bludd kicked her Uzi out of her hand and it sailed into the street.

"I've got you now," he chuckled in a low voice. Before she could get up to face him, he slammed the stock of his USAS-12 shotgun right down between her eyes and she toppled to the ground, blood spilling down the bridge of her nose.

Her ear microphone flew out when she hit the ground, and Major Bludd stepped on it with a laugh. She tried to crawl away, and Bludd simply laughed again before kicking her in the stomach. She reeled back and fell against the pickup truck, sliding off the hood and back to the ground.

The military forces finally made it to the intersection, their progress marked by the deafening sound of a minigun in their ranks. Cobra was forced to retreat under such devastating firepower, and moved back farther down the street.

Major Bludd aimed the shotgun at the Army and opened fire, the shotgun booming out shots in rapid succession. But after a few seconds it was empty, and Bludd fumbled with another drum clip. He snapped it into place and continued shooting. The Army soldiers returned the favor, and soon were shooting right back, sending a barrage of bullets their way.

Bludd grabbed the Baroness by her hair and dragged her back behind the pickup truck. "Don't you worry about a thing, darling," he said with a fierce grin. "Those guys aren't gonna get in our way. We'll deal with them shortly, and then you and me and have some private time together."

Dazed, the Baroness wiped blood from her face and tried to get up, but Bludd pushed her back to the ground with his boot. He smiled at her and then returned fire at the oncoming military forces. The Cobra troops attempted to reorganize and stage a counter attack on the military, but they were just too poorly-trained. As far as the Baroness could tell, there were only a handful of Army personnel there, even less soldiers than Destro had brought. And yet, they were easily able to fight their way down the street, the Cobra forces completely outclassed by the better trained Army forces.

She reached down and pulled a small Beretta pistol from a hidden holster in her boot. Standing over her, Bludd shouted in frustration as his gun went empty again, and he yanked out the empty drum clip and tossed it aside.

"Sorry, honey," she said sarcastically, "I'm afraid you just aren't my type."

She pulled the trigger and shot Bludd right in the side at point blank range. He stumbled back, a look of absolute shock on his face, and fell to one knee.

The Baroness jumped up and ran out into the street. Major Bludd staggered upright, dropping the empty shotgun, and went after her, pulling out one of his Desert Eagles. With his other hand, he pressed the wound, blood smearing his black leather gloves.

As bullets rained around her, the Baroness fell to the ground, raising her hands into the air in surrender. Major Bludd stomped toward her, raising his Desert Eagle. The Baroness heard the Army soldiers shouting, and turned to see them not more than thirty yards away, aiming their guns at Bludd, who completely ignored them.

Before he reached the Baroness, there were more shots, and Bludd was struck right in the thigh, a spurt of blood splashing across his leg. He cried out in pain and went down to one knee again, as another shot hit him in the shoulder, knocking him off balance. The Baroness slid backwards along the ground and raised her Beretta once more. Bludd managed to look at her, gritting his teeth in pain and anger, as she pulled the trigger, hitting him right between the eyes. He toppled over backwards and flopped to the ground, one leg folded under him, the Desert Eagle still in his hand.

The Baroness tossed her gun away and got to her feet. As the soldiers shouted for her to stop, she quickly ran off behind the nearest building. Since she was unarmed and running away, the soldiers did not open fire on her.

She ran as fast as she could back toward the helicopters, and to her dismay, saw some of the rising into the air before she got there. Without her ear bud, she couldn't contact them or let them know where she was. She ran out into a clearing as the main helicopter, the one that Destro was riding, lifted up into the air.

"I'm here!" she screamed over the roar of the rotors. "I'm here! Don't leave without me!"

The helicopter rose steadily into the air, buffeting her with wind, blowing her hair back. She waved her arms desperately, trying to get their attention. They would have to be looking for her, and she was standing right out in the open.

"I'm right here!" she cried.

The helicopter seemed to hover momentarily, and then continued its ascent. The others were already turning and heading away, leaving only the last copter behind.

She glanced back over her shoulder, thinking that the Army soldiers were coming for her. But they weren't there, they had let her go in order to chase after the Cobra troops. But the helicopter did not come back down, it continued to go upward, leaving her standing in the clearing, helpless and alone.

As the wind from the rotors pounded down on her, she looked up desperately and lowered her arms, slowly realizing what was happening.

"No, James," she whispered. "Don't leave without me. Please, take me with you."


	35. Chapter Thirty Four

_Sorry again for not getting this chapter uploaded last week. I have been insanely busy recently and just don't have much time to write. I will do my best to get the next chapter done on time._

Chapter Thirty-Four

On the wall in front of them, two dozen computer screens flickered and flashed, showing images from all over Springfield, taken from security cameras cleverly hidden all over town. Some of the cameras were destroyed in the fighting, but the images were replaced with scenes from other cameras almost instantaneously. Two computer technicians scrambled to keep up with all the incoming video feeds, switching to different camera views rapidly.

Cobra Commander crossed his arms and hummed thoughtfully, the numerous screens reflecting off of his visor. It was impossible to tell exactly which screen he was watching, so Storm Shadow chose to believe that he was able to watch all of them at the same time and process all that visual information instantly.

"They are doing better than I expected," Cobra Commander said calmly, tilting his head slightly as he watched the bright screens.

Storm Shadow stood a few paces behind him, his hands resting on the handles of the wakizashi blades partially concealed under his white trenchcoat. He was in full costume, anticipating that he would enter the combat eventually, and had his white hood up to cover his face. There was one katana blade strapped to his back, the other one left behind during his assault on the military installation.

"I find that hard to believe," he said gravely. "It looks to me like your soldiers are getting annihilated out there."

"Oh, they are certainly losing the battle," Cobra Commander agreed. "I wasn't talking about their fighting skills. I was talking about their dedication. Watch them, Storm Shadow. Look how selflessly they throw themselves into the fight. It's amazing."

That's not the word Storm Shadow would have used, but he allowed the Commander his moment of inappropriate pride. As far as he could tell from the videos, the Cobra soldiers outside were getting completely destroyed. And the worst part was that they easily outnumbered their enemies by ten to one, at the very least.

The arms dealer Destro only appeared to have brought perhaps a dozen armed troops with him, and they were walking through the Cobra troops as if they were children armed with squirt guns. So far, only two of Destro's men had even been wounded, much less killed.

The squad of Army operatives was doing just as well, with not even ten members total, and yet none of them had been wounded, and they were marching right down the street like there was no opposition at all. Of course, the gattling gun one of them carried probably had something to do with their success.

But Storm Shadow could only shake his head in disgust at how pathetic and ineffectual the Cobra units were against such a smaller force. They had nearly five hundred armed soldiers, and they were barely able to stand up against less than twenty-five enemy troops. It all showed just how little enthusiasm and dedication really mattered in combat. Cobra lacked the one thing that the Army soldiers and Destro's troops excelled at: proper training and tactics.

That had been Major Bludd's job, and so far, it appeared that he had failed miserably.

"There," Cobra Commander said, pointing suddenly at one of the screens.

From a hidden camera located on the roof of a house, Storm Shadow saw Major Bludd himself come into view, dragging someone behind him. It was none other than Destro's female bodyguard, the woman called the Baroness. Storm Shadow watched as they crouched behind a vehicle and Major Bludd opened fire on someone out of range of the camera.

"Track him. I want to see what happens," Cobra Commander said.

Storm Shadow stepped forward and found himself genuinely interested in the scene that unfolded in front of him. He almost laughed out loud when the Baroness pulled a gun on Bludd and shot him in the stomach. The camera followed Bludd as he went after her, only to get caught up in the crossfire and go down right in the middle of the street, the final shot coming from the Baroness, who put a bullet between his eyes.

"Good riddance," Storm Shadow said.

"He could have still been useful to us," Cobra Commander said. "But I have to admit, perhaps it is better this way. Major Bludd was becoming a bit of a liability."

With that, Cobra Commander announced to the computer techs stationed in the room, as well as the guards and other soldiers in the hall outside, that it was time to go. Now that Major Bludd was dead, the forces on the surface were without a commander, and judging by their performance so far, it would be a matter of minutes until the battle was lost completely.

"Sir!" one of the techs called out. "We have a breach in section three!"

"Don't worry about it," Cobra Commander called back as he headed out the door, flanked by his guards. "It is time to abandon ship."

Storm Shadow hesitated for just a few moments to look at the computer screen, to see where the breach was. When he saw the two figures on the screen creeping down a stairway, he smiled to himself under the hood and went out to follow Cobra Commander.

They went down a long central corridor, and past the labs where Doctor Mindbender was working. He ran out after them, expecting that something important was happening. Dozens of other soldiers, guards, technicians, and various support staff filed into the hallway after their Commander, who walked purposefully at the front of the column.

The announcement had been made that they were abandoning Springfield, so even now, soldiers on the surface were retreating and falling back. It would not take long for either Destro's troops or the Army to make their way into this underground complex, but as usual, Cobra Commander had a plan for that as well.

They reached a series of doorways along the rear end of the complex and flooded out into a narrow hangar with a series of electric subway cars sitting along a track that led into a dark tunnel. Cobra Commander ordered the soldiers and technicians to head down the tunnel on foot while he and his personal guard loaded onto the subway cars.

"Cobra Commander!" Mindbender cried out. "You can't leave me behind! They will arrest me!"

"I don't see how that is my problem," Cobra Commander snapped.

"I can't go to jail!" Mindbender protested. "They will interrogate me! They might even torture me! Who knows what I might reveal to them?"

Cobra Commander seemed to consider that. "You have a point there," he admitted. "We certainly can't have you revealing anything to the authorities, now can we?"

Mindbender, for just a moment, seemed relieved. Storm Shadow watched in fascination as Mindbender's momentary relief morphed into a sense of impending dread as Cobra Commander walked over to one of his guards. He wordlessly pulled a pistol from the guard's holster.

"No!" Mindbender screamed. "You need me! You can't produce the serum without me!"

Cobra Commander stepped forward, raised the gun, and shot Mindbender right in the chest. The Doctor staggered back, holding out his hands in a futile attempt to defend himself, and Cobra Commander fired again. Mindbender gurgled something and collapsed to the floor, bloody red smears ruining the front of his white lab coat.

"Good riddance to you as well," Storm Shadow said.

Cobra Commander looked at him and then down at Mindbender's motionless body. "That one," he rasped, "had also outlived his usefulness. Maybe he'll serve as a warning to anyone else who fails me."

Storm Shadow stood aside as Cobra Commander boarded the subway car. His personal guards loaded on as well, but Storm Shadow did not get on with them.

"I need to stay behind," he said. "There is something I have to take care of."

"You don't have time for it, whatever it is," Cobra Commander said. "Once I reach the rendezvous point, I'm activating the demolition sequence."

"I'll have enough time," Storm Shadow promised. "I'll meet up with you in San Francisco in a few days."

"Are you sure about this?"

Storm Shadow nodded. "Let's just say that this is something personal that I have to deal with. Don't worry, I'll get out before the complex comes down."

Cobra Commander said nothing more. They closed the door and the subway car drove forward down the tracks and into the tunnel. All of the other soldiers had already left, leaving Storm Shadow alone in the hangar. He stepped over Mindbender's body on his way out, and headed back into the complex.

Someone had come all this way to see him again, and he wouldn't miss this meeting for the world.


	36. Chapter Thirty Five

_I'm sorry this chapter is so short, but I wanted to get something uploaded this weekend. This was meant to continue into a much longer chapter, but I decided to cut it off here instead and continue this into the next chapter, since the point of view would change. The next chapter is the rematch some of you are probably waiting for, so I will do my best to get it written this week and ready to update next weekend._

Chapter Thirty-Five

Snake Eyes paused at the end of the hallway, peering out around the corner, his assault rifle cradled in his arms. Scarlett snuck up behind him and leaned over his shoulder, brushing her hair aside. She glanced down to check how much ammunition she still held in her gun, and decided it was enough for now. Strangely, they had not encountered any more resistance since they had descended unto the tunnels underneath the school.

The hallways were dimly lit with recessed lighting, giving the gray and silver corridors and shadowy rooms a foreboding, twilight appearance, as if illuminated by moonlight.

Snake Eyes held up two fingers. Scarlett nodded briskly and raised her mini-crossbow before following him out into the hallway. They moved silently along the edge of the hall and emerged into a wider foyer where two Cobra agents were impatiently standing guard.

As the first guard turned and saw them approach, a crossbow bolt struck him right in the throat before he could utter a warning, and we went down gurgling blood. The second guard spun around and met the tip of Snake Eyes' katana blade as he rammed it into the guard's stomach. Snake Eyes' hand went to the handle of the guard's machine gun to stop him from squeezing the trigger in his death throes. The guard slipped to the floor and Snake Eyes set the gun down beside him.

Scarlett kneeled down and whispered into her mic. "Duke, we made it safely inside. How close are you to our location?"

When there was no response, Scarlett repeated herself and then looked up when once again there was no response from Duke or from anyone else. "Do you think the walls here are blocking my reception?"

Snake Eyes nodded. Although their radios should have been able to transmit from underground, it was possible that Cobra had installed jamming equipment for any number of reasons, such as to block any unwanted communication from inside the base. Scarlett shook her head and stood back up in frustration as Snake Eyes slid his katana sword back into its sheath.

"Maybe we should head back out and contact them," she suggested.

To her surprise, Snake Eyes nodded in agreement. He gestured back in the direction they had come, indicating that she was free to go back up the stairs, and then turned and walked off farther down the hallway.

Scarlett quickly caught up with him and said quietly, "You aren't getting rid of me that easily."

"_This is very dangerous_," Snake Eyes signed, without looking at her. "_I can handle myself, but you should go back_."

"Are you suggesting that I'm not able to handle it?"

"_One of us should go back and call for reinforcements, and you're the only one who can talk over the radio_."

In a way, it did make some sense in a weird way, but Scarlett wasn't going to fall for something that easily. So she didn't respond, and simply followed Snake Eyes down the hall. She wasn't going to let him go into danger alone, and besides, she knew that he was hiding his true motivations. For some reason, he wanted to go in alone. And Scarlett had a feeling that she knew why.

"He's here, isn't he?" she asked softly, as they made their way around another corner and through another foyer. "That other ninja. You know who he is, don't you?"

"_No_," Snake Eyes signed quickly. "_But I know where he is from_."

"The symbol on his sword is the same as the symbol on yours."

"_Yes. We were trained at the same academy in Japan_."

"So you want to find out who he is?"

"_Yes_."

At the end of the hallway, they came to a large square room, brightly lit with long fluorescent lights hanging from the ceiling, and featuring a huge Cobra symbol on the floor. As they entered, Scarlett lowered her gun and stared around the room in disbelief. Snake Eyes paused in the doorway, as if unwilling to enter, as Scarlett walked inside.

There were more than one hundred cheap cots lined up in the room in long rows, with IV bags hanging nearby on metal poles. Almost all of the beds were empty, but near the door in one corner, there were three beds still occupied. Near the beds there was a metal desk with some scattered papers.

Scarlett walked over to the beds and looked down at the three men laying there. They were alive and breathing, but each of them stared up at the ceiling lights in an unresponsive, catatonic state. Scarlett snapped her fingers and lightly touched their cheeks, but they looked like mental patients loaded up with sedatives, except that there were no straps tying them down or any other restraints that she could see. The three men just laid there motionlessly, eyes unblinking, mouths gaping open.

"My God," Scarlett whispered, picking up the papers sitting on top of the desk. She perused them and folded them up to tuck into her suit, to be examined later.

"We have to do something for them," she said to Snake Eyes. "We can't just leave them here like this."

But when Scarlett looked back at Snake Eyes, she saw that he was no longer in the room with her. She hurried to the doors, but Snake Eyes was gone.


	37. Chapter Thirty Six

_Sorry again for the late update. I think I have everything sorted out now though, so I am confident I can get back on track and get this novel finished in the next few weeks. _

_I'm also going to go back later and rewrite the last half of the last chapter. I don't like the idea of Snake Eyes just ditching Scarlett for no reason like that, but I was rushed for time and just wanted to end the chapter, so I could get started with this one._

_Stay tuned for the next chapter, and thanks for reading!_

Chapter Thirty-Six

Snake Eyes walked into the main auditorium as silently as a shadow. His boots made no sound on the tile floor, and his equipment and weapons were carefully strapped down or padded to avoid the sound of metal clinking together. He came in like a breeze and swept to the middle of the floor, looking casually around at the wide open room and at the huge Cobra emblem painted on the wall above the ceremonial throne.

The room was empty now, although he could tell that it had been packed to capacity not very long before. This was the heart of the compound; he knew it as clearly as if it was labeled on a map. Whatever secretive words the leader of Cobra had given to his followers, he had given them right here.

Snake Eyes stood still, arms at his sides, and waited.

He didn't have to wait very long. Barely a minute after he came into the room, another figure entered from a concealed doorway behind the front platform and walked across the stage, head obscured by a large white hood, hands casually stuffed into the pockets of his long white trenchcoat.

He stopped in front of the throne and faced forward, looking at Snake Eyes with his head tilted down, only his eyes visible from underneath the hood and facemask.

For several long seconds, the two ninjas faced each other silently. Snake Eyes, in black, and Storm Shadow, in white. There might have been a war going on over their heads, but neither of them seemed concerned with the outside world.

Storm Shadow broke the silence.

"Good to see you again, Snake," he said. "Or should I call you Snake Eyes?"

When Snake Eyes did not respond, Storm Shadow smiled underneath his face mask and said, "Still not talking? You really have to stop being so self-conscious, Snake. Who cares if your voice sounds funny? Of course, you never talked much to begin with, so I guess it's no big loss."

Storm Shadow stepped down off the platform so that he and Snake Eyes were on even ground. He flipped back his hood and pulled down the cloth face mask to reveal his appearance, running a hand through his uncombed hair. Keeping his eyes on Snake Eyes the whole time, he began to walk across the floor in a wide circle. Snake Eyes turned almost imperceptibly, moving so that he faced Storm Shadow at all times.

"Why don't you take off your mask, Snake? Afraid to show your face to me after all these years? Don't tell me you still haven't gotten plastic surgery to cover up those scars?"

He shook his head with a chuckle and continued walking around the edge of the room, tracing a wide circumference with Snake Eyes in the middle.

"I can't tell you what a big surprise it was to run into you the other day. Small world, huh? I go on a mission to kill an Army General, and who do I run into but some old teammates from my squad in Iraq. I'm sure that Stalker meant to tell me that you were there, but I'm afraid he didn't have much to say when I ran into him."

Snake Eyes clenched his fists and squared his shoulders, gradually slipping to a martial arts stance, as Storm Shadow continued on his circular path. Storm Shadow came around and began walking closer, so that his path took him on a spiral toward the center of the room. He made no moves, at least nothing overt, and seemed completely casual as he walked and spoke to himself.

"How is Stalker doing, by the way? I assume he's still alive, since he was alive when I left him. You're welcome for that, by the way."

As he approached the front stage again, Storm Shadow slowed down and sighed theatrically, turning to face Snake Eyes. "Oh well, it's been great talking to you again, but I have to confess that I don't have all day. So how about we get on with it?"

He swept his coat back and slid his foot back across the floor, easing into a defensive stance, his hand held out in front of him. For the moment, his wakizashi blades remained in their sheaths. He narrowed his eyes and tilted his head forward, a faint smile on his lips.

Snake Eyes crossed the distance between them in the blink of an eye, leaping into the air and aiming his outstretched foot at Storm Shadow's throat. Storm Shadow dodged expertly and Snake Eyes altered his landing, spinning around and launching his fist forward, where it was met by Storm Shadow's waiting arm and deflected. A flurry of rapid punches blurred the air in between them, each one blocked and swatted aside, and they leaped apart momentarily, staring each other down like wolves eyeing their prey.

Storm Shadow attacked, his hand moving like a thrown knife, missing Snake Eyes' neck by inches as he backed away and swung his leg up to strike at Storm Shadow's midsection, but the ninja turned his body, the boot sliding off his hip, and ducked under a fierce chop by Snake Eyes, only to strike a solid blow to Snake Eyes' stomach.

He went in with another punch to the throat, but Snake Eyes dodged and struck the arm out of the way with one hand, swinging his other hand up to hit Storm Shadow with an uppercut. The punch barely grazed Storm Shadow's cheek as he arched back and his leg shot out, nailing Snake Eyes right in the chest.

They flew apart from each other like magnets of the same polarity. Storm Shadow retreated to the center of the floor, while Snake Eyes took a deep breath and stalked around the perimeter of the room, rhythmically clenching and unclenching his fists. He headed back to the center of the room and hesitated momentarily, watching carefully as Storm Shadow braced himself once more in a defensive stance.

Leaping forward in a rush, Snake Eyes shot at his opponent like a missile. They collided and battled across the surface of the auditorium, arms and legs a nonstop barrage of movement as they fought for an advantage. Snake Eyes chopped and slashed the air with his fists, seeking a weak spot in Storm Shadow's excellent defense, but each one of his attacks was effortlessly blocked or countered.

Storm Shadow fought back with attacks of his own, which were also blocked or dodged by Snake Eyes, who swung down repeatedly to block fierce kicks, his elbow slamming down on Storm Shadow's legs and feet to block the attacks. A ruthless strike at Snake Eyes' face was knocked aside, a brutal kick to his ribs was deflected, another counter-punch aimed at his neck missed the mark.

Snake Eyes tried to find some break in Storm Shadow's defense, but every punch he threw, every chop he attempted, every well-aimed kick, was shrugged aside as if they were nothing. The only sound in the room seemed to be the rapid whoosh of air from their flying fists, and the slap of those fists against forearms and elbows.

In a frenzy of movement, Storm Shadow swung his arm down, blocking another desperate strike, knocking Snake Eyes off balance. His other hand launched up and slammed into Snake Eyes' chest, making him gasp. He stepped back defensively and another perfect punch slipped under his arm and got him right in the ribs. Before he could readjust his defense, Storm Shadow struck him across the face with an overhand right hook, and then swung his leg up to slam into Snake Eyes' solar plexus, knocking him straight back.

Storm Shadow spun around in a roundhouse kick which sailed over Snake Eyes head, and when Snake Eyes rushed forward to take advantage of Storm Shadow being off-balance, he realized he walked right into a trap. Storm Shadow leaned over in a continued circular movement, his leg sweeping around again, as Snake Eyes intended blow hit nothing but empty air.

Storm Shadow came back around and connected with the roundhouse right in Snake Eye's face, the impact of the kick almost cracking his goggles. His head snapped back and he staggered under the force of the blow. Stars swam in front of his eyes and he desperately tried to regain his footing, but it was far too late.

Storm Shadow came in like a shark smelling blood in the water. Snake Eyes barely managed to deflect the first few punches before Storm Shadow broke past his guard and struck him at will, his fists slamming into Snake Eyes like a hammer striking a nail.

Snake Eyes backpedaled, trying to deflect the onslaught, but Storm Shadow jumped up and kicked him across the face and then spun back and hit him again when Snake Eyes' arms slipped down. His head rocked to the side and he stumbled a few steps before crashing to the floor.

He rolled onto his stomach and managed to get his legs under him, then pushed himself up onto his hands and knees. His head rolled back and forth dizzily, his breath coming in short, painful gasps.

Storm Shadow backed away, breathing heavy but otherwise unharmed. But there was no smile on his face, no gleeful expression of victory.

"You can't beat me, Snake," he said hollowly. "You never could. You might have been my uncle's favorite student ..." He gritted his teeth and pounded his hand into his own chest emphatically. "... but I was his best student."

Snake Eyes said nothing, but slowly got to his feet. When he was steady, he reached up and slid his katana from the sheath on his back. The blade made a thin scraping sound as it cleared the edge of the sheath, with a note of finality.

Storm Shadow eyed the blade and reached up to grab the handle of his own sword.

"Are you sure you want to do this, Snake?" he said carefully. "You know there is no going back after this. I am not going to go easy on you like before."

Snake Eyes responded by slashing his sword through the air with a whoosh, symbolically cutting the conversation off.

Storm Shadow gritted his teeth and gripped the handle tighter. With a resigned breath, he pulled the sword free. He then slid his arms out of the white trenchcoat and tossed it onto the floor, the coat would only get in his way in a sword fight. Underneath he wore a white long-sleeved shirt.

He held the sword out and pointed the tip at Snake Eyes.

"Come on, then," he whispered.


	38. Chapter Thirty Seven

_Here is the new chapter this week, I hope everyone likes it. I know some of you were probably hoping for the second half of the Snake Eyes/Storm Shadow fight, but I didn't want to leave all the other plot threads hanging. I'll get back to the ninja fight in another chapter, but here is the climax of the Baroness and Destro storyline. Until next week!_

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Destro leaned against the small circular window and looked down underneath the rising helicopter, at the lone figure standing helplessly in the grassy clearing below. Beyond that, he saw the tiny town of Springfield falling to pieces, buildings and vehicles on fire, columns of black smoke rising into the air. Even in the helicopter, he could still hear the sound of gunfire.

"Sorry, Anastasia," he said softy, to himself.

Below, he watched as the Baroness waved her arms frantically, and then dropped her hands in defeat, staring upward. Even from this height, Destro could see her face clearly, as if she was standing right beside him. The look of devastation was clear on her beautiful, sculpted features, edged with a trace of betrayal.

She knew that he was leaving her behind. Destro could read the realization on her face. There was no way that she could see him, but she knew just the same.

But Destro knew her too well. The Baroness would be apprehended, most likely without a fight, since although she was fiercely loyal, she was surely not stupid. She would rather be arrested than throw her life away. The Feds would take her into custody and charge her with any number of crimes, and without a defense she would probably spend the rest of her life in prison.

It seemed such a shame to throw away such a lovely asset, but Destro could not risk arrest himself, and they both knew it. If the Baroness was captured, there at least remained a chance that she could be set free, but if Destro was caught, then all his wealth and power would be for nothing. The Baroness would serve as a lure, as a distraction, to allow Destro the time to get away.

She would never reveal his identity to authorities. She would probably never even reveal her own, as Destro himself was not entirely sure of her true background. She would remain willfully silent, vengefully uncooperative to the authorities, willing to spend eternity in jail rather than betray him.

She would blame herself for not getting back to the choppers in time. Blame the Feds for interfering in the operation. She might even blame Destro a little bit for not waiting longer. But in the end, she would remain perfectly beautiful and incredibly dangerous, and not give the government even one word of useful information.

Destro watched as the Baroness got smaller, and glimpsed federal agents – military operatives, most likely – come around the nearest buildings with their guns drawn. She didn't even react to them, she simply stared up at the helicopter as it rose above her.

"Sorry," Destro repeated in a whisper.

He would never find a more loyal or more effective second-in-command. Or a more beautiful companion. The Baroness was like no one else that he had ever known, and losing her would damage his operation in countless ways. She was the enforcer within the Grenadiers organization, as well as Destro's personal assistant within the M.A.R.S. Corporation.

She was violent and ruthless, but still gentle and dependable, she was both wonderfully unpredictable and easily manipulated. Destro would never find someone as perfect as the Baroness again. She was a fierce warrior and a graceful companion. And someday, she might just make a fine wife for the right man.

Perhaps, just this once, Destro would take a chance.

"Land the helicopter," he said to the pilot.

"What? Sir, this area is not secured."

"Do what I tell you," Destro said firmly. He returned his gaze out the window. "We cannot leave the Baroness behind."

Meanwhile, the G.I. Joe team was advancing on the Baroness, who remained in the middle of the clearing, unarmed and noncombative. She turned to see two armed soldiers appear from around the nearby buildings, guns drawn.

Gung-Ho and Breaker emerged into the clearing from different directions. Breaker kneeled down at the corner of the closest building, a bullet-riddled house, and glanced behind him to make sure that no Cobra troops were coming from that way. He relayed his position to Duke and the rest of the team through his helmet microphone, and kept his M-16 aimed steadily at the woman in the clearing.

Gung-Ho was forty feet away, walking confidently forward with his gun braced against his shoulder. He lowered it slightly when he saw that the Baroness was not armed, but continued looking at her over the barrel of his assault rifle.

"Don't you move, now" he ordered her. "Show me your hands."

The Baroness did as she was told, holding her hands up, palms out. The wind blew her hair in front of her face and she made no move to brush it away, her head tilted slightly down, so she looked out menacingly from under her brows.

"Step forward," Gung-Ho ordered. "Get on your knees, and then lie flat on the ground. You understand? Don't make any sudden moves, all right? Don't do anything we're both gonna regret."

The Baroness took a step forward, glancing sideways at Breaker, who kept his gun aimed directly at her chest. He was too far away for her to possibly make a move against, so she followed orders and got down on one knee, keeping her hands raised.

"Now get on the ground," Gung-Ho said, motioning with his gun.

Breaker suddenly jumped up and raised his rifle, aiming it up into the air. "Gung-Ho!" he shouted, pointing.

The helicopter hovering over them dropped down unexpectedly, slowly turning sideways as it lowered to the ground. Gung-Ho reflexively raised his gun, but realized that it would be useless to open fire, so he carefully backed away, keeping a close eye on the machine guns built into the front of the chopper.

"Duke!" Breaker shouted into his mic. "One of the helicopters is coming back down!"

The Baroness turned and got back to her feet, looking hesitantly back and forth from Gung-Ho to the descending helicopter.

Gung-Ho waved his gun in her direction. "Don't you move!" he shouted. "Stay right where you are!"

The Baroness smiled wickedly and laughed, her hair whipping across her face. "What are you going to do? Shoot me in cold blood?"

The helicopter created a whirlwind in the clearing as it came down to the ground, the huge rotors blasting wind in every direction. Gung-Ho shielded his eyes and heard a voice in his ear. "Do not engage!" Duke was yelling. "Just let them go! We still have to deal with the Cobra forces, they are the main priority!"

The huge black chopper landed and the side door slid open. Gung-Ho braced himself, expecting armed soldiers to come pouring out, but there seemed to only be one person inside. It was a figure clothed a bulky black military jacket, wearing a shining silver mask shaped like a face. Two small eyes peered out from under the mask.

The Baroness ran to the helicopter joyously and leaped inside, wrapping her arms around the figure. He helped her inside and grabbed the sliding door handle with one hand. Gung-Ho looked on in bewilderment as the figure peered at him and gave him a friendly wave before shutting the door. A moment later, the helicopter raised into the air once more.

Inside, the Baroness held onto Destro, her cheeks wet with tears. She pulled his mask off and looked into his eyes, relief and happiness pouring out of her.

"I thought you were going to leave me behind," she gasped, half crying and half laughing with joy. "Thank you so much for coming back for me, James."

"Don't be silly," Destro said affectionately, touching her gently. "You know I could never leave without you."

Back on the ground, Gung-Ho and Breaker watched as the helicopter rose out of sight and disappeared.

"That might not be the weirdest thing I've ever seen," Gung-Ho said. "But it's definitely in the top ten."

"Come on," Breaker said, "Let's meet back up with the others."

"Yeah," Gung-Ho agreed as they ran off, "We still have a fight to finish."


	39. Chapter Thirty Eight

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Duke ran along the edge of a burned-out house, with Short Fuse right behind him, and Heavy Duty bringing up the rear. The team had split up for the moment in the heat of battle, with Gung-Ho and Breaker chasing after the mystery woman, and Shipwreck and Clutch going ahead to meet up with Scarlett and Snake Eyes at the school. Several blocks behind them, they could hear the oncoming flood of federal agents coming to clean up the mess. But in the heart of the town, there was still resistance, although it did seem to be falling apart.

"Duke," a voice buzzed in his ear. "It's Shipwreck. I've met up with Scarlett."

"Good, what's the situation?"

"They found an entrance into an underground bunker, but they got separated. We don't know where Snake Eyes went."

Heavy Duty turned the corner and opened up with his Minigun, spraying down an impenetrable wall of gunfire across an open avenue, making a few Cobra agents duck and run for cover. Duke covered his ears and waited for the deafening barrage to cease.

"Say again," he replied. "I didn't catch that."

Scarlett spoke this time. "Snake Eyes went off on his own. But we found some survivors in a lab room of some kind. They're alive but completely unresponsive."

"You mean members of Cobra?"

"Yes, but they've been drugged or something. I think they might have been the only ones able to resist the brainwashing Cobra used."

More scattered gunfire echoed across the street, and a few stray bullets smacked into the wall around the corner. Duke looked up and saw Gung-Ho and Breaker down the street, and waved them over. Heavy Duty kneeled behind him, taking a much-needed rest, breathing heavily as he checked the bullet feed inputs on the back of the Minigun. Short Fuse crouched a few steps from the wall, keeping his gaze on the street beyond.

"Okay, can you evacuate them?" Duke asked. "Can you do it safely, I mean? How much resistance are you facing?"

"Very little," Scarlett replied. "We ran into a few Cobra soldiers when we got here, but nothing since then."

"She's right," Shipwreck added. "They seem to have sent all their men out and left this place completely undefended."

Duke peered out and crept forward as Gung-Ho and Breaker arrived beside him. The five of them moved forward, running across the front yard of the nearest house and making their way across the street. Gung-Ho and Short Fuse went in front, swinging their M-16s in front of them, taking a few shots at retreating Cobra soldiers.

"Alright then," Duke said. "Get the survivors out of there as fast as you can, and then go after Snake Eyes."

"Copy that," Shipwreck said. "We'll keep you informed."

Gung-Ho ran ahead and fired a few shots between two nearby houses. More gunfire erupted nearby, and he ducked back behind the wall. Short Fuse lobbed a grenade up over the side of the house and it went off with a shuddering thump, sending chunks of dirt into the air. The gunfire stopped, but the team didn't wait to check out the damage. They kept moving along the edge of the houses, making their way down the street. Up ahead, they could see the school just a couple blocks away.

"Sorry, we didn't catch her," Breaker informed Duke. "We had her cornered, but one of the helicopters came back down and picked her up while we were standing right there. And there was a guy in the helicopter wearing a silver mask."

Duke looked strangely at him. "What?"

Breaker could only shrug. "I have no idea."

"We got company!" Gung-Ho shouted.

A dozen Cobra soldiers suddenly appeared from a two-story building directly across the street. Unlike the others wearing plain blue uniforms, these soldiers wore shining black armor and were armed with advanced bullpup assault rifles with short barrels and long rectangular stocks where the magazine was located. They ran out into the front yard and opened fire, with more appearing in the second story windows. Now that the mercenaries led by the mystery woman were gone, Cobra could focus all of its forces against the Joe team.

Gung-Ho and Duke opened fire while the rest of the team took cover. Bullets exploded all around them, cratering the wall and puffing up dirt on the ground. Duke felt one bullet zip by his head before he ducked down and retreated as well.

"Heavy Duty!" he shouted. "They're all yours!"

Heavy Duty strode out into the open like a giant and braced himself, a wide grin on his face. He squeezed the trigger and once more his Minigun roared out a blistering stream of bullets, the smoking casings tumbling around his feet.

The Cobra soldiers scrambled for cover under the onslaught, and Heavy Duty raised the gun to shoot up at the windows. They shattered with a crash as the front of the building was riddled with bullets, the soldiers within diving for safety.

Short Fuse hurled another grenade and it rolled right toward an oncoming Cobra trooper. He went flying through the air like a rag doll when it exploded right under his feet, his gun sailing away in the other direction.

As the team ran around the side of the next house, with Heavy Duty laying down a wide field of cover fire behind them, more metallic black Cobra soldiers appeared ahead of them and opened fire. Windows shattered right above their heads as they ran for cover.

Gung-Ho leaned against the side of the building, wincing as bullets blew apart the siding just inches away. He swung his gun up and fired back, but cried out in pain and fell backwards, clutching his side. Duke instantly ran to him and provided cover, shielding Gung-Ho's body with his own. Short Fuse returned fire, but he couldn't get past their heavy black armor, and they barely even seemed to notice the bullets striking them.

Breaker kneeled down and took careful aim as bullets kicked up dirt at his feet. He squeezed off a single shot, and one of the Cobra soldiers jerked his head back, his black visor breaking apart with a crack. He flopped to the ground and the other soldier took cover behind the next house.

Duke and Short Fuse pulled Gung-Ho to safety as he swore angrily, gripping his bloody side. He pulled his hands away and blood seeped through his jacket and over his hands. He grimaced and grumbled a curse. The bullet had struck him just outside the edge of his kevlar body armor, between his ribs and his hip.

"How bad is it?" Duke asked.

"Ain't nothing!" Gung-Ho snapped. "Damn, it ain't like I never been shot before!"

"Doesn't look like nothing to me," Breaker said, glancing down at him.

"Just clipped me," Gung-Ho said, containing his anger, but still wincing in pain. "I'll be fine."

"Can you walk?" Duke asked, concerned.

Gung-Ho nodded gruffly and tried to get to his feet. "Well, I sure as hell ain't staying here."

"Let's go then," Duke said. "We have to find a better position. It's too easy to get pinned in here, we have to get back to the street."

The other Cobra soldier appeared and fired at them again. But before they could return fire, the roar of a Minigun boomed out and the soldier went flailing to the side as bullets swarmed him. His armor was not able to protect him from that.

Heavy Duty showed up ahead of them, slowly moving his huge weapon back and forth, smoke streaming from the end of the rotating barrels.

"Come on!" he shouted. "The coast is clear up here, man!"

Breaker and Short Fuse helped Gung-Ho stand up, but he waved them off and insisted that he was fine to walk on his own. After a few steps, however, he allowed Short Fuse to help him. Despite the blood smeared on his hands and soaked into his jacket, the wound did not seem to be bleeding too much, but Gung-Ho kept one hand pressed over the wound just to be safe. He dropped his assault rifle, unable to wield it in one hand, and instead pulled out a pistol with his free hand.

The team emerged out into a wide grassy yard with a tall wooden fence on one side and a pair of rusted out cars parked in the driveway. Across the street was a parking lot for a small plaza with several empty storefronts. On the corner was a larger building that appeared to be a church, and down the street from that was the school where Scarlett, Snake Eyes, Shipwreck, and Clutch were.

About twenty blue-uniformed Cobra troopers were down the street, taking defensive positions inside houses and behind porches. As they opened fire, more of the black-armored troops came from the opposite corner and opened fire as well.

"I'm almost out of ammo," Heavy Duty grunted, leaning against the wall. "You want me to use up the rest of it on those guys?"

Bullets rained down on their position, clattering against the sides of the houses like hail. "Go ahead," Duke said. "It might make them think twice about rushing us. Let's give you some covering fire first."

Duke and Breaker popped out into the open and sprayed some bullets in each direction. Breaker fired at the regular Cobra troopers, who ducked down instinctively, giving Heavy Duty time to step out and get his aim. Duke fired at the heavy-armored soldiers, who barely even reacted. They fired back, bullets blowing apart the wooden porch railing right over Duke's head.

They jumped back, however, when Heavy Duty opened up his Minigun at them. They scattered momentarily, shooting over their shoulders as they ran for cover. After only a few seconds, the Minigun went empty, the barrels spinning with a loud whine, as if the gun was frustrated that it was out of bullets.

Duke swung around and joined up with Breaker as they fired at the regular Cobra soldiers. Several of them went down, but there were still many left who returned fire enthusiastically, the wild shots going over Duke's and Breaker's heads.

"Those guys can't aim worth a crap," Breaker muttered.

"Are you complaining?" Duke replied.

Heavy Duty unbuckled the Minigun frame around his waist and let the weapon drop to the ground along with the empty belt feed attachment. He rubbed his shoulder and picked up the M-16 that Gung-Ho had dropped. Compared to the huge Minigun, the assault rifle looked like a toy in Heavy Duty's hands.

"What do we do now?" Short Fuse asked from behind them. "We're like sitting ducks here. We're low on ammo and Gung-Ho needs medical attention."

"Didn't you guys call the cavalry?" Heavy Duty asked.

"Yeah," Duke said. "And there they are."

From down the block, a small army of federal agents stampeded into the street, wearing body armor with FBI written on the front in large yellow letters. Armed with shotguns and assault rifles, they swarmed around the Cobra soldiers. The ones that didn't immediately drop their weapons and surrender were fired upon, and within seconds, the entire group was disarmed and nuetralized.

More FBI agents appeared from the other street, and the second group of Cobra soldiers backed away and retreated as more than three dozen agents came after them.

Duke breathed a sigh of relief and stood up as their reinforcements surrounded the entire block. Gung-Ho, leaning heavily on Short Fuse for support, walked out to get treatment by one of the agents carrying a medical kit.

"You gonna be okay, big guy?" Heavy Duty asked.

Gung-Ho waved off the comment. "Don't worry about me, I'll be up and kicking butt in no time at all."

Duke gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder as the agent led him away. He turned to the rest of the team and loaded a new clip into his rifle. "Come on team, let's join up with Shipwreck and the others. It's time to finish this."


	40. Chapter Thirty Nine

_Hello everyone, sorry about disappearing again for a couple months. I just had too much to do this summer to get any writing done. But now summer is over, and I can finally finish this story after almost two years. Here are two new chapters, and I will upload the last few chapters next week. I hope everyone likes how the battle ends, and I apologize again for not uploading for awhile._

Chapter Thirty-Nine

All along the empty corridors in the heart of the Cobra bunker, a rhythmic clanging sound echoed, like the sound of a blacksmith energetically banging on an anvil. The sounds of metal striking metal reverberated through the hallways, leading to the large central auditorium, where two figures circled each other, one in all black and the other in white. Their footsteps made no sound, and neither of them spoke. The only sounds were of their swords clashing.

Storm Shadow gritted his teeth and blinked away the sweat dripping into his eyes, slowly circling his opponent. His white outfit was smeared with red in several places. Blood dripped down one arm, from a shallow cut across his elbow, and also across his left hip, from another superficial cut. His shoulder burned from a slash across his upper back. None of the injuries were very serious or deep, but they bled freely and hurt enough that they were a distraction. Blood dripped off the back of Storm Shadow's hand onto the floor.

Snake Eyes gripped his katana firmly in both hands, pacing Storm Shadow as they walked in a continuous circle. The straps for his web gear had been slashed away, and now the gear lay in a pile on the floor, although Snake Eyes had no use for the grenades and clips now anyway. Like Storm Shadow, he bore several small cuts, but his black uniform concealed the wounds and contained the blood, so Storm Shadow could not see the effects of his attacks.

Blood was smeared down Snake Eyes' leg from a slash across his thigh, and a narrow slice across his chest dripped a line of blood all the way to his waist. But as far as Storm Shadow could tell, Snake Eyes was not wounded at all.

They came at each other once more, swords whistling through the air, the razor-sharp edges smashing into each other, striking out another metallic clang. Storm Shadow pushed forward, slicing downward, and Snake Eyes deflected the blade with his own horizontal swipe, the blades scraping against each other and sliding off once more. Snake Eyes rushed in, rapidly swinging his blade to the left and right, and Storm Shadow blocked each strike with a quick movement of his wrists, expertly blocking each thrust in such a way to slide the blade away, in the hopes that Snake Eyes would over-exert himself and leave an opening.

But no openings came, and the two ninjas had to step away again, unable to breach their opponent's defenses. Storm Shadow's breath came fast and hard, the sword feeling heavier in his hands, his numerous small wounds burning in pain.

Snake Eyes stepped into a new stance, holding the sword straight at his enemy. His chest rising and falling steadily, but not a rapidly as Storm Shadow's. His wounds did not seem to slow him down, if he even noticed them. But blood dripped off his black pants onto the floor, giving Storm Shadow his first sign that Snake Eyes was wounded.

Storm Shadow grinned at the knowledge and quickly ran forward, sword shrieking upward in a blinding movement, his eyes locked on Snake Eyes' expressionless face. Their swords clanged out metallic music as they danced in a fluid series of movements, swords clashing together in the air. Every furious slash by Storm Shadow was met with a determined defense by Snake Eyes, and every swift counterattack was met with another impenetrable defense by Storm Shadow. Neither ninja could break through, only managing to strike minor hits.

Storm Shadow backed away, wincing in pain as he felt a gash along his side, evidence of another minor cut. He didn't even know when Snake Eyes had managed to hit him that time.

He patted at the wound, feeling blood seep under his shirt, creating another red stain on the white fabric. He lowered his sword momentarily and began to walk casually around Snake Eyes, who remained in a defensive stance, his sword held out horizontally. Storm Shadow allowed the tip of his sword to scrape lightly on the floor as he rubbed his fingers together, trying to remove the sticky feeling of blood.

"You're holding back, aren't you?" he asked rhetorically. "You could have ended the fight just now, and you chose not to. Isn't that right?"

Snake Eyes remained motionless for a moment, and then slowly nodded.

"I suppose I've been holding back as well," Storm Shadow admitted. "Perhaps I have too much respect for you. Perhaps I'm letting our history together cloud my judgment."

He inhaled deeply a few times to catch his breath, allowing Snake Eyes the opportunity to do the same, and tapped his sword rhythmically against the floor. In the distance, somewhere out in the compound, they could hear the rattle of machine guns.

"Is that your back up?" Storm Shadow asked with a smile. "Or maybe it is mine?"

Snake Eyes, in response, lowered his sword as well and stood up straight, his face unreadable behind the mask. If he looked carefully, Storm Shadow almost felt he could see his opponent's eyes through the dark visor, but his eyes, like his black mask, were blank and expressionless.

"What are you thinking, Snake? You know you can ask me anything you wish. Perhaps you are wondering how I came to be here?"

Storm Shadow smiled suddenly, but it was a bitter, humorless smile, and his eyes flashed with anger as he spoke. "My uncle banished me from the clan, you must know that by now. It was right around the time you left. He banished me and said that I was a disgrace to our family. Imagine that. He spent his entire life teaching me the ways of the ninja, and then he calls me a disgrace because I dared to put that knowledge to good use. Perhaps he had forgotten the secret history of our great family."

He added bitterly, shaking his head. "I know how you Americans love to romanticize the past, Snake, but no matter how hard you practice or how skilled you become, you can never truly become a ninja. You are just another American who spent some time in Japan and learned the martial arts. You can never understand what it means to truly be a ninja. I've spent my life studying, I've been training since I know how to walk, and this life is all that I know. Learning the ways of the ninja is something that is in my blood."

Storm Shadow slashed the air with his katana. "My uncle, the man who trained me since I was a child, had forgotten what a ninja truly is. Ninja are criminals, we are spies, we are saboteurs, we are assassins. That is our role. That is why I'm here, Snake, that is why I work for this madman and his army of fanatics. Because I am a ninja."

With that final statement, there was a sudden blaring alarm over their heads. Small red lights blinked on and off along the perimeter of the ceiling, casting the room in an eerie reddish glow.

Storm Shadow reached up to slide his katana back into the sheath on his back. At his feet was his white trenchcoat, which he casually picked up. "I'm afraid that you and I will have to finish this another time, Snake. That alarm means the demolition sequence has been activated. We only have a few minutes until this whole building falls down on top of us."

He started to walk away and Snake Eyes quickly ran to cut him off, holding his sword out to block his exit. Storm Shadow laughed shortly, but made no move to reach for his own swords. For several moments, the simply stared at each other, Snake Eyes bracing himself and aiming his katana at Storm Shadow, who simply stared back as the siren continued blaring above them.

"The clock is ticking, Snake," he said. "What is it going to be? Let me go in order to escape and save your own life? Or keep me here so that both of us die when the compound detonates?"

Suddenly, Snake Eyes' head popped up when a voice came echoing from one of the nearby hallways. It was a woman's voice, crying out, "Snake Eyes!" Her voice was cut off by the sound of more gunfire, very close this time.

Snake Eyes glanced away from Storm Shadow, and then back at his former friend and teammate, who merely smiled cryptically. "What's it going to be? Stay here with me and die, or go after your friend and escape? Your time is running out."

Snake Eyes' indecision only lasted a moment, and he ran off out the side door of the auditorium, not even giving Storm Shadow another look. He sheathed his sword as he ran, and was soon gone.

Storm Shadow called after him, laughing, "Until we meet again, Snake Eyes!"


	41. Chapter Forty

Chapter Forty

Shipwreck grunted with exertion as he carried the unconscious Cobra soldier up the stairs, the man's limp body hanging over his shoulder. Scarlett followed him to the top of the stairs, where Clutch was waiting for them, watching the doorway nervously with his M-16 pressed against his shoulder.

"That's the last one?" he asked.

"Yeah," Shipwreck groaned, setting the body down as gently as possible next to the other two men on the floor. He looked up and down the abandoned hallway in the old school, picking up his rifle. "Things still safe up here?"

"I haven't seen anything," Clutch said. "I think most of these Cobra guys have cleared out. But Duke and the others will be here in just a little bit. Did you find Snake Eyes?"

"No," Scarlett said, shaking her head. "We have to go back down for him. Stay here and wait for the others."

"You got it."

Scarlett and Shipwreck went back down the stairs to the underground complex and retraced their steps to the large room where Scarlett had found the unconscious men. As soon as they entered the room, they jumped when a loud siren went off and red lights began to flash on the walls.

Shipwreck swung his gun around, as if expecting an attack. "Now what in the heck is that?"

The red lights flashed threateningly and Scarlett got a sinking feeling in her stomach. "I don't know, but it can't be good. We have to find Snake Eyes and get out of here."

"Come on," Shipwreck said, "he had to have gone this way."

They ran down the hallway, not bothering to be quiet about it. Their boots banged loudly on the metal floor, the red lights reflecting all around them, bathing them in red light. Shipwreck aimed his gun down another hallway, but it was empty like the others.

"We'll never find him like this," he said, shaking his head.

"And we might get lost ourselves," Scarlett added.

She walked to the middle of the intersection and cupped her hands around her mouth. "Snake Eyes!" she shouted. "Snake Eyes! Where are you?" Her voice echoed rapidly down the corridor, and she waited hopefully for some kind of sign.

"Will he call for help if he needs it?" Shipwreck asked. "Maybe he's hurt or trapped somewhere. I know he doesn't talk, but can he yell?"

"I hope so," Scarlett said. "Let's go this way."

They went down another long hallway that curved to the right in a gradual semicircle. There were large metal crates along the inner edge of the hall, and several other hallways branching off to the left, but Scarlett and Shipwreck continued forward.

"Snake Eyes!" Scarlett called out. If they didn't find him soon, they would have to leave the underground complex without him, as much as Scarlett hated to even think about it. The sirens and lights could only mean one thing: they had to get out of here, and in a hurry.

"Snake Eyes!" she called out again, beginning to feel desperate.

She suddenly heard footsteps ahead of them and she felt a faint flicker of hope, but it was dashed when it wasn't Snake Eyes ahead of them, but three armed soldiers running in the opposite direction. Scarlett and Shipwreck stopped in their tracks and the Cobra soldiers did the same, staring at each other in surprise, and Scarlett realized they they hadn't heard her shouting, they were just trying to get out of the complex as well.

Shipwreck and Scarlett dove out of the way as the Cobra soldiers opened fire, diving behind the large metal crates. Bullets dented and clanged off the metal sides, and Scarlett covered her head with her hands. She glanced back to see that Shipwreck was behind her, hiding behind another crate. She raised her Colt 9mm SMG and fired a few shots into the ceiling to try to suppress their fire. But almost as soon as she pulled the trigger, a wave of bullets rattled the wall over her head.

The Cobra soldiers took up positions a bit farther down the hall, one of them standing up across from an intersecting hallway, and the others kneeling behind more metal crates stacked against the wall.

Shipwreck stuck his gun upward and opened fire blindly. The Cobra soldier standing up fired back and Shipwreck pulled his gun away. Scarlett poked her body out and fired, hitting the Cobra trooper in the chest. He staggered backward, reflexively squeezing the trigger, spraying bullets into the wall as he fell over.

Scarlett's gun clicked empty and she panicked, realizing she didn't have any spare clips left. She looked back and saw Shipwreck peering at her over the top of the metal crate, and quickly shook her head to let him know she was out of ammo.

Shipwreck understood, and quickly stood up, blasting bullets down the hall, making the other Cobra troops duck for cover. As Shipwreck provided covering fire, Scarlett jumped up and ran for it. She took two fast steps back toward Shipwreck as he covered her, long red hair whipping behind her.

One of the Cobra soldiers popped up suddenly and opened fire at her with his submachine gun as she ran, firing a three-round burst. The first bullet zipped over her shoulder, the second bullet grazed her upper arm.

The third bullet struck her right in her back, knocking the breath from her lungs. Her head jerked back with the impact and she lost her footing, tumbling down to the floor. She hit the ground face first and sprawled out, motionless.

The Cobra soldier kept shooting, and Shipwreck fell over backward as bullets tore across the wall, striking him in the arm and knocking his gun out of his hands. He shouted in pain and grimaced, cradling his wounded arm, falling backward. He rolled onto his side and stared in horror at Scarlett lying a few feet away, unmoving.

"I got them!" the Cobra trooper cried victoriously. He ran out into the hallway and laughed nervously. "Look! I got them!"

He came forward, standing over Scarlett, and aimed his gun down at Shipwreck, his crazed eyes visible over his face mask. He seemed to tremble with frantic energy, and shouted, "That's what you get for messing with Cobra!"

There was the sound of rapid footsteps, and then a blur shot from the adjacent hallway, flashing in front of the Cobra soldier. Shipwreck flinched in shock as the soldier's arm, holding the machine gun, went flipping into the air, spraying blood. He shouted and it turned into a high-pitched scream, grabbing onto the severed stump with his other hand.

Snake Eyes spun around in a vicious circle, jamming the edge of his long sword right into the Cobra soldier's throat. His body jerked, blood splashing across the front of his blue uniform, his arms falling to his sides. His body slumped sideways and Snake Eyes turned quickly to face the other Cobra soldier, a Glock 18 in his hand. The other soldier flew backward as bullets blasted across his chest.

"Snake Eyes... " Shipwreck gasped, baring his teeth in pain. His arm was a bloody ruin, cradled against his side. "Scarlett … they shot her ..."

Snake Eyes kicked the Cobra soldier's dead body off of his sword and stepped cautiously toward Scarlett, resheathing the sword. He kneeled down and reached out for her, but his hand stopped, as if he was afraid to touch her.

He took a deep breath and took hold of her shoulders to gently turn her over. Shipwreck managed to sit upright and painfully got to his feet, using his assault rifle as a crutch. The hallway still rang with the siren, red lights flashing an urgent warning.

Scarlett let out a slow breath and looked weakly up at Snake Eyes, her face pale and eyes blinking away tears. She lifted her hand a little, but was too weak to move.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I didn't want to leave without you ..."

"We have to go," Shipwreck urged. "We have to go!"

Snake Eyes slid one arm under Scarlett's neck and the other under her legs, and lifted her up effortlessly, cradling her against his chest. Shipwreck took Snake Eyes' Glock because he couldn't use his rifle with one arm, and together they went back down the hall. Shipwreck went in front, holding the pistol out in front of him, but the pain from his wounded arm made his whole body shake. Blood dripped onto the floor from the ends of his fingertips.

Snake Eyes could feel blood spreading across Scarlett's back, smearing across his gloved hands. Her breathing was shallow and labored, and her arms swung down uselessly. They went as fast as possible back to the exit staircase, and did not run into any more resistance. By now, all the Cobra soldiers left in the complex had surely escaped.

As soon as Shipwreck hit the steps, they could feel the thundering tremble of explosives going off nearby. The entire vertical shaft seemed to wobble and quake, dust and dirt fluttering down. There was a tremendous roar, and the whole area shook, almost knocking Shipwreck off his feet. He tossed away the pistol so he could use his free hand to grab onto the railing, and struggled up the stairs, his face contorted in pain, sweat dripping from his brow.

Scarlett lifted her head a little and looked over Snake Eyes' shoulder as he rushed up the stairs, watching a swirling wave of fire rush down the hallway, rattling the walls. Chunks of concrete and plaster tumbled down the stairway, clattering off the steps. A billowing cloud of smoke shot up the stairs, blinding them as they ran. The entire world seemed to be coming down.

"We're not going to make it!" Shipwreck cried. The stairs shook under their feet, another blast of fire erupting beneath them.

The wall broke apart and a pile of rubble cascaded down like a landslide. Shipwreck went down as a chunk of concrete struck him in the back of the head, and collapsed to the ground in the middle of a pile of rubble. Smoke clogged the air, making Snake Eyes choke, and he sagged down over Shipwreck's body.

He couldn't carry both of them. He looked up and saw streams of light above them piercing the blinding black smoke, and then he fell against the railing as the wall behind them tumbled over in a roar of stone, smashing the stairs. Tons of rubble smashed down the stairway, only a few feet from there they had just been standing.

They were only a few flights from the top, but it might as well have been miles. Snake Eyes panted for breath, coughing with the thick smoke. His fight with Storm Shadow had left him weary, and carrying Scarlett's limp body sapped much of his strength. The tremors rattled him, and more dust and bits of debris were knocked loose and rained down.

He felt Scarlett's hands feebly gripping his arm, and took a deep breath, forcing himself to stand up. Gritting his teeth and groaning with the effort, he lifted Scarlett up and shifted her body up onto his shoulder, her hair draping over his arm. Then he kneeled down and grabbed the front of Shipwreck's kevlar armor. Taking one step, his muscles straining, he stood and pulled Shipwreck free from the rubble. He forced himself up two steps, Scarlett's limp body hanging over him, trying to drag Shipwreck's unconscious body up the steps behind him.

But he wasn't strong enough. He fell forward, too tired to keep moving. The slow blood loss from his fight with Storm Shadow, combined with the choking air, finally drained every last ounce of strength from his body. He slumped over, unable to keep going.

The entire Cobra compound detonated beneath him, sending towers of flame up the shaft, making the stairs crumble and collapse. Snake Eyes, barely able to stay conscious, tilted his head up and saw vague, blurry shapes in front of him. Blackness edged his vision, and he saw the outline of a person appear through the smoke.

"Snake Eyes? Oh my God! Snake Eyes!" Clutch cried out, running down the stairs toward him. Right on his heels were Duke and Heavy Duty.

"Come on!" Duke shouted in a panic. "Clutch, take Scarlett!" He pulled her away from Snake Eyes and Clutch took her, his face distraught as he carried her to safety.

Duke grabbed Shipwreck, hefting him up and taking him away. Heavy Duty lifted Snake Eyes in his massive arms and followed the others up the stairs. "You gonna be just fine, man," Heavy Duty said. "You gonna be fine."

Twenty seconds later, the top of the staircase finally broke free and collapsed down in a torrent of stone and concrete, burying the stairway area in rubble. Duke and the others barely made it out of the school before it imploded inwards, caving into the ground in a huge cloud of flying debris and smoke. Towers of flame burst from the ground, and then the entire underground base was gone, buried under tons of dirt and rock.


	42. Chapter Forty One

_Okay everyone, here they are: the last three chapters of the Rise of Cobra! Check out the author's note at the end of the last chapter for some more information! I hope everyone likes how I ended the story!_

Chapter Forty-One

Dozens of FBI agents and other federal employees ran around everywhere, as the arduous task of piecing together the Cobra organization's activity in Springfield began. There were bodies to identify, equipment to catalog, surviving Cobra soldiers to interrogate, survivors to send to hospitals, buildings to search, and one gigantic mess to clean up. Almost the entire perimeter of the town was surrounded by the FBI in the hopes of catching more Cobra agents as they tried to escape. Fires throughout the town continued to burn out of control, among them the remains of the underground complex, now destroyed and buried. In time, even that would be excavated and investigated. But for the moment, there were more important matters to deal with.

Hawk crossed his arms and watched as several Cobra members were loaded onto a truck to be transported to a holding facility, hands and feet shackled together like a chain gang, each of them silent and staring at the ground. So far, almost none of the arrested Cobra men had said anything meaningful, other than statements and exclamations that they were independent from the United States and that the FBI had no right to arrest them. A few – the more intelligent ones, Hawk suspected – demanded to see a lawyer.

But the survivors were the minority. Hawk looked down the street to see a unit of investigators already beginning the difficult process of gathering the numerous dead bodies scattered all across Springfield. Hundreds of Cobra agents had fought to the death for reasons that no one completely understood, and identifying the bodies and putting them to rest would be a long, painful job, one that Hawk was glad he was not involved in.

He could not even imagine how all of this was going to play out in the media. Hawk was a military man first and foremost, but achieving his level of rank took a certain political skill, and Hawk was no stranger to the political machinations of the military in regard to domestic missions such as this. Already, his superiors in Washington were debating how much information to release to the press, and when to release it. So far, the entire operation in Springfield was considered top secret, a fact made easier since there were no innocent civilians there to leak information or demand answers. Hawk guessed that within a day or two, news of the operation would reach the major news outlets, although how it was presented was still up in the air.

Hundreds of men were dead, and they weren't foreign terrorists or illegal aliens. They were American citizens, and they were all members of a dangerous terrorist organization. Hawk couldn't even guess how the public would deal with that kind of information.

Duke and Clutch walked over to him. Clutch had a weary, far-away look in his eyes, and he did not have his usual upbeat posture. Duke just looked tired, having spent the last hour giving directions to the Feds.

"How are the wounded?" Hawk asked.

"They're doing okay," Duke said. "Scarlett has been stabilized, but it could have been much worse. If the bullet had hit her a few inches to the left, it could have paralyzed her. The docs think she'll be okay, though. Shipwreck will need some physical therapy on his arm once it heals, but the damage wasn't too bad. And Gung-Ho is his usual self, you'd barely notice he was shot."

"That's wonderful news. You should all be extremely proud of yourselves. You pulled this entire mission off without losing a single man. That's a rare accomplishment, Duke. I can't tell you how thrilled I am that everyone made it through."

He smiled warmly and patted Duke on the shoulder. He then turned to Clutch with a concerned expression and asked, "Are you doing okay, Clutch?"

"Yeah, I guess so," Clutch replied with a sigh. "It's just, you know, gonna take awhile for it all to get sorted out. I really thought that they weren't going to make it out of there, and then we found them and got out just in time. Pretty crazy when you think about it."

"You did an amazing job," Hawk said. "All of you did. It took a lot of courage to go into that building when it was about to collapse."

Clutch smiled awkwardly and ran his hand through his hair. "Yeah, I still can't believe we did it."

"I'm going to check on Snake Eyes and the others," Duke said. "We're taking them to the hospital in Crosby, about forty-five minutes from here. The wounded Cobra members are being transported to a prison hospital in Arksville."

"Sounds good," Hawk said. "Are you going to stick around after?"

"Yeah, I'll be here all day," Duke said with a weary smile. "I take it you're heading back to the Pentagon?"

"Unfortunately, yes. I have one big report to hand into the Joint Chiefs in a few hours, so I better get started on it."

"Good luck with that, sir."

Duke and Clutch walked off toward the small fleet of ambulances parked on the next street, and were soon joined by Short Fuse and Heavy Duty.

"So what do we do next?" Short Fuse asked. "Do they still need us here?"

"No, you guys can get going if you want," Duke said. "I'm going to stay here for awhile to help organize the clean up. Hawk is heading back to the Pentagon."

"I'm going to Crosby with the ambulances," Clutch said. "You guys are free to come along with me."

"Count me in, man," Heavy Duty said. "First I got to to get my Minigun. I left it sitting out there and I don't want no one to take it."

"I think it will be fine," Duke said. "No one is going to steal it."

"That thing is a prototype," Heavy Duty said with a shrug. "I can't leave a half-million dollar piece of equipment just sitting in the dirt like that."

Duke and the others laughed, and they headed off into the town while Duke continued on to the ambulances. At least two dozen of them were lined up along the avenue, most of them loaded with injured Cobra personnel, some of them mortally wounded. The last three vehicles were for the wounded Joe team members.

Shipwreck was in a stretcher, his arm tied down and wrapped in bandages. He had taken three bullets in the arm and one more that grazed his hip. As Duke approached, he saw Gung-Ho sitting in the ambulance next to him, chatting animatedly.

"Feeling a little bit better?" Duke asked Shipwreck as he approached.

"They got him loaded with morphine," Gung-Ho chuckled. "He can't feel a thing."

"I feel great," Shipwreck muttered, a sleepy smile on his face. "Don't remember a thing, though. They said I probably got a concussion too."

"They're taking you to the hospital now," Duke said. "Clutch, Heavy Duty, and Short Fuse will meet you there, but I have to stay here for a while longer."

"You're the man in charge now," Gung-Ho said with a chuckle. "Looks like you finally got used to giving orders, huh?"

"I might be getting better at it, but I'm still not used to it," Duke said.

"Give it time," Gung-Ho said. "You're a damn good commander, you just ain't realized it yet."

Duke didn't know exactly what to say to that, so he just shrugged and said, "Thanks, but I wasn't the only one who did a great job today. All of us deserve some congratulations and a few days of vacation after this." Then, he added, "Are you going to ride with Shipwreck to the hospital?"

"Yeah," Gung-Ho said. "They got to check me out anyway cause of that scratch I got."

"Scratch? Getting shot is a more than a scratch."

"Naw, it was just a flesh wound."

Duke laughed and shook his head in amusement. "Whatever you say, Gung-Ho. I'll see you guys later."

In the next ambulance, Snake Eyes was seated, an oxygen mask in his hand, which he took several deep breaths from. One leg of his black pants were cut open to reveal a bandage wrapped around his thigh. Duke also knew Snake Eyes had a slash across his chest that was already bandaged up, but he had put on a new black jacket already. And of course, he still wore his black face mask.

When the medics had removed Snake Eyes' shirt earlier to patch up the cut on his chest, it was the first time Duke, or any of the other members of the team, had even the slightest clue what Snake Eyes looked like. Since he always wore a full black outfit, none of them, except Stalker or perhaps Hawk, even knew what race he was. Some of the team had suspected he was Asian because of his martial arts skills, but as it turned out, Snake Eyes was Caucasian.

Secretly, Duke suspected that Snake Eyes' identity was not as classified as Hawk had told them. After all, it didn't really make sense for one member of their team to have his identity, and even appearance, kept a strict secret. The entire GI Joe team was built with teamwork and friendship in mind, and having one member always wear a mask did not fit in with that idea. Duke also suspected that the other members of the team, Gung-Ho and Scarlett in particular, shared his opinions. But he did not voice his ideas to anyone yet, although he intended to ask Hawk about it eventually.

He had a feeling that the real reason for Snake Eyes' mask was not because his identity was truly a secret, it was because he simply preferred to wear a mask. Duke knew about his injuries; Stalker had told him in order to explain why Snake Eyes never spoke.

Duke climbed into the ambulance and sat down across from Snake Eyes, who lowered the oxygen mask and leaned his head against the interior wall of the ambulance.

"That other ninja was there, wasn't he?" Duke asked, setting his elbows on his knees and leaning forward. "That's who you were fighting, isn't it?"

Snake Eyes sighed and nodded, looking outside.

"I take it you didn't defeat him."

A sullen shake of Snake Eyes' head told Duke everything he needed to know about their combat. Duke had assumed it was the case because Snake Eyes' injuries were razor sharp cuts, the kind caused by swords or knives, and the Cobra soldiers were armed with only guns.

"Don't dwell on it. The important thing is that everyone made it out of there alive, and that might not have happened without you. When we found you, it looked to me like you were trying to drag Shipwreck to safety while carrying Scarlett at the same time. That's pretty amazing, what you were doing. I know how you must feel, but it was incredibly selfless of you just the same."

Snake Eyes shook his head and waved his hand dismissively.

"I know that Scarlett and Shipwreck went back inside to look for you, but I will not let you take responsibility for what happened to them. Don't feel guilty because they were wounded trying to find you, I won't allow it. They risked their lives to save you, and you risked your life to save them. That's what teammates do, Snake Eyes. All of you did the right thing, and no one is to blame for what happened. The only thing that matters is that you all made it out okay."

Snake Eyes looked at him intently and pointed at the third ambulance, parked next to them.

Somehow, Duke was able to pick up on what Snake Eyes was trying to say, the same way Stalker was able to. Snake Eyes' body language and simple gestures were easy to understand once you got used to them.

"Why don't you go see for yourself," Duke said with a slight smile. "She probably wants to talk to you too."

Snake Eyes stepped out of the ambulance and Duke followed him. They walked to the other ambulance, where another stretcher was waiting. Two paramedics outside where getting ready to close it up and leave for the hospital.

Snake Eyes slowly got inside to see Scarlett lying on the stretcher, hands at her sides, a peaceful look on her face, as if she was asleep. When Snake Eyes sat down beside her, she opened her eyes and looked at him, giving him a tired smile.

"Hey," she whispered.

"How do you feel?" Duke asked, standing outside.

"I feel okay, I guess. Not too bad, under the circumstances."

"When you get to the hospital, they're going to do some X-rays to make sure that the bullet didn't hit any of your vital organs. You'll probably have to stay there for a day or two before the doctors release you."

"I know," Scarlett said. "Everyone else is okay, right?"

"You already know that Shipwreck got wounded. He'll be fine though. The only other injury was Gung-Ho. He got clipped during the firefight, but he acts like it's nothing. Apparently, he thinks getting shot is about as serious as getting a hangnail."

"I disagree," Scarlett said, smiling. "Getting shot sucks. Once is enough for me."

The two paramedics came to close up the doors, so Duke stepped away. "I'll see you in the hospital, okay? Have a safe trip."

Scarlett gave him a little wave, trying not to move too much. Snake Eyes leaned over her and put his hand on hers, giving her a supportive squeeze. The doors slammed shut and the ambulance drove away, along with some of the others. Duke waved to Gung-Ho and Shipwreck as well as their ambulance drove off.

He walked back to the main street, where the FBI agents were still loading up more Cobra members. He saw Breaker and Short Fuse standing around, talking to each other, so he went over to them.

Breaker, his hands casually in his pockets, blew a bubble with his gum and it popped with a snap. "So what do we do now, Duke?" he asked. "What's next?"

"You mean, what are we doing right now? You can help out the Feds if you want, but I think they have things under control here. We're just cleaning up now."

"No, I meant what is next for the team?"

Duke crossed his arms and looked out across the wreckage of the town, the bullet-riddled houses, the burned out cars, the blood-stained concrete. He hadn't really thought about it yet, worrying too much about the present to make any plans for the future.

"We did a lot of damage to their organization," he said. "We must have weakened them, and a huge number of their men have been captured or killed. But we didn't completely get rid of Cobra. We took out the majority of their people, but the men in charge still got away, I have no doubts about that."

"Even if they did," Short Fuse said, "It will take years for them to rebuild their organization. They must have put all their effort into building this town, and we took it out in less than day. They might have gotten away, but they lost everything."

"I'd like to think that," Duke said, "but something tells me this is only the tip of the iceberg. I think we only discovered one of Cobra's strongholds."

"You really think so?" Breaker asked.

"Once we have time to excavate that underground bunker, we'll know more," Duke said. "But I think that we'll face Cobra again soon enough."

Three hundred yards away, up on a hillside among a dense line of trees overlooking the town, Storm Shadow sat with a pair of high-powered binoculars, kneeling among some bushes. He watched as Duke, Breaker, and Short Fuse walked away, and then raised his head to watch as the departing ambulances drove out of town. He had been watching them closely for several minutes, and had seen Snake Eyes there.

He lowered the binoculars and smiled to himself. Storm Shadow had left the compound right before it self-destructed, through a secret exit that took him down a long corridor and to a ladder that led up to a concealed area a few hundred feet away from the edge of town. He was fairly conspicuous in his white outfit, but he had snuck up the hill without being spotted, and was now just outside the FBI's perimeter.

"Take care of yourself, Snake," he said quietly. "I'll see you again soon enough."

A few minutes later, Storm Shadow was gone.


	43. Chapter Forty Two

Chapter Forty-Two

Two Weeks Later

Hawk took a seat at the large circular table and set down a small stack of folders. His khaki dress shirt was rumpled, as if he had slept in it, and the sleeves were rolled up. Around him, the rest of the team was already assembled. Duke, Stalker, Breaker, Clutch, Scarlett, Short Fuse, and Shipwreck were seated at the table, while Gung-Ho, Heavy Duty, and Snake Eyes remained standing. Gung-Ho stood with his arms crossed, overlooking the team like a proud father standing guard over his family.

"How do you feel, Lonzo?" Hawk asked.

Stalker relaxed in his seat, having been given a clean bill of health the day before. "I feel pretty good, but there's still a bit of tightness, like an itch I can't scratch. All things considered, I guess I can live with that."

He regretted missing out on all the action in Springfield, but now that he was healthy again, he intended to make up for lost time. Stalker looked up at Snake Eyes, who stood in the corner, and Snake Eyes gave him a supportive nod. For once, Snake Eyes was not dressed for combat; he wore plain black cargo pants and a long-sleeved black shirt, as well as his regular black mask and goggles.

Shipwreck sat beside Stalker, his arm not fully healed up yet. It was scarred and lined with stitches, but he joked that as long as the wounds did not interfere with his tattoos, he was okay with it. He no longer wore bandages, and in another few days he would get the stitches removed.

The only member of the team still recovering from injuries was Scarlett, who had been on limited duty since her stay in the hospital. Doctors there had removed the bullet in her back and made sure there were no internal injuries, but she was still sore and moved very carefully. She sat at the head of the table, Gung-Ho looming over her, with her hands in her lap and her hair in a ponytail, dressed in jeans and a blue shirt with a leather jacket. Hawk gave her a smile as well as he spread out the folders on the table.

"I know I haven't been around much the last few days," he said, "but I've been busy working. I have some news regarding the mission in Springfield, and some news about the future of our little team."

He smiled to himself, enjoying the moment as the team waited anxiously for what they hoped was good news. He flipped open one of the folders.

"As most of you probably expected, we did not find any sign of Cobra's leadership in the wreckage of their base. We did find much more evidence of their brainwashing program as well as details about their training and financial plans. But we didn't find the people in charge, only more unfortunate soldiers."

"How did they get away?" Duke asked.

"Believe it or not, they had their own escape tunnel," Hawk explained. "We found a completed subway track that led into the woods outside of town. It ended about two miles away from Springfield. There were vehicle tracks leading away from the entrance to the tunnel, but once they reached a paved road we lost their trail. We think there were at least five different trucks."

"So a lot of people made it out of there," Stalker said.

"Yes," Hawk said. "According to those recordings the brainwashed men were listening to, their leader calls himself Cobra Commander. He may or may not be David Ekans, the man who founded Arbco Marketing, but whoever he is, he got away clean for now. None of the Cobra members we arrested could give us much information about him. Apparently, he never used his real name with his own men, and he also wore a mask to hide his face. So we have very little information to work with."

Hawk continued, "We also found no trace of the ninja who infiltrated the Pit. As you all know by now, we do know his identity though. His name is Thomas Arashikage, and he served in the Army with Stalker and Snake Eyes several years ago. After he was discharged, he apparently broke off ties with his family in Japan and went underground. How he got involved with Cobra is anybody's guess."

"I hate to ask this," Clutch said uncomfortably, looking at Stalker, "but if he knew you, then does that mean he let you live on purpose?"

"Seems that way," Stalker admitted. "If he had wanted to kill me, he certainly could have. I would have never suspected Tommy of joining a group like Cobra. When he was in my squad, he was a good guy, I trusted him."

"Was he brainwashed like the others?" Duke asked.

Hawk looked up at Snake Eyes and said, "Care to answer that?"

Snake Eyes shook his head and signed, "_No, he works with Cobra of his own free will._" Scarlett translated for the rest of the team.

"This guy knows where to find us," Clutch said. "He broke in here once before, how do we know he won't try it again?"

"We've already improved our security," Hawk said. "We have motion sensor cameras outside, twice as many security cameras inside, and now there are electronic codes to enter the outside buildings. He might try to come back and finish what he started, but he'll find it a lot harder to break in this time."

"Okay then," Duke said, moving on. "What about the missing Doctor Bogdanovich?"

"We found no sign of him either," Hawk said. "He never returned to work at his institute either, so we have to conclude that he was definitely working for Cobra."

He closed the folder and turned to another one. "Also of interest is the group that attacked Springfield before we got there. Thanks to the work Snake Eyes and Scarlett did, we have evidence that M.A.R.S., the weapons manufacturer, is somehow involved in all of this, but so far any investigation has turned up nothing."

"What about the woman?" Gung-Ho asked. "She was working for M.A.R.S. too, wasn't she? Have they tracked her down yet?"

"She is nowhere to be found. But I strongly believe that within the next few weeks, M.A.R.S. will be under serious investigation. Hopefully, that will help shine some light on the situation."

"And the guy in the silver mask?" Breaker asked. "That was the woman's partner in Russia, is that correct?"

Hawk sighed and shrugged his shoulders. "We haven't verified that yet, but it does seem like he is the same man we saw in those Russian security videos. We don't know who he is either, if he works for her, or the other way around."

"Polite guy though," Gung-Ho said sarcastically. "He waved to me, all friendly and everything."

"Although at the moment," Hawk said, "those two are secondary concerns. After all, their men did not engage us in Springfield. Whatever reason they had for attacking Cobra, they stopped short of attacking us. It's worth pointing out that they were fighting against Cobra, not with them."

"The enemy of my enemy is my friend?" Gung-Ho suggested.

"I wouldn't go that far," Hawk corrected. "How about: the enemy of my enemy isn't necessarily my enemy as well."

"We can't underestimate them," Duke said. "Whoever they were, they were far better equipped and better trained than Cobra was. They weren't just another group of fanatics, they were trained soldiers with high-tech weaponry. They are a force to be reckoned with."

"Definitely," Hawk agreed, closing the other folder.

"And what about us?" Scarlett asked quietly, a hopeful smile on her face. "You said you had news about the team?"

"I certainly do," Hawk said. He leaned back in his chair and folded his hands in his lap. "I've talked with the Joint Chiefs and our men in Washington, and they have approved of a significant budget increase. That means more equipment, better intel, and most importantly, it means that we'll be seeing some new faces around here pretty soon. We will have some new members joining us very shortly."

The team broke out in cheers and congratulations, led by Gung-Ho, who clapped loudly and slapped Duke on the back. Clutch laughed and gave Scarlett a high five. Heavy Duty, his deep voice rumbling with energetic laughter, leaned over Breaker and Short Fuse and grabbed their shoulders in a friendly grasp. Duke and Stalker merely nodded in appreciation and smiled proudly.

Snake Eyes remained in the corner, his arms crossed over his chest, apparently unmoved by the announcement. But no one was surprised by that.

"You already have some people picked out?" Stalker asked Hawk once the noise had died down.

"I have a few names I'd like to go over with you and Duke. We have lots of candidates but only a few open positions. I'm leaning toward five new people right now, and maybe more in the future if things continue to go well."

"I think they will," Stalker said confidently.

Hawk gathered up the folders and tapped them together, then set them back down and spread his hands. "Well, that's all I have for you guys right now. So unless you have any other questions for me ..." He looked at his watch. "Unless I'm mistaken, it is now five-thirty on a Friday night. So that means you guys are free for the weekend."

"Now that is great news," Clutch said.

"Does that mean we're dismissed?" Heavy Duty asked.

Duke pushed his chair back and got up. "You certainly are. And I think a celebration is in order. What do you guys think?"

"Now that is an order I will gladly follow," Short Fuse said.

Gung-Ho spoke up, "Hey, I know a great sports bar about twenty minutes from here, they got like a dozen big screens. Got some fantastic hot wings. Real nice place."

"Count me in," Heavy Duty said, and pretty soon everyone else was agreeing to come along as well.

As the meeting broke up, everyone got up from the table and headed for the main elevator. Gung-Ho went on about the bar, while Heavy Duty, Shipwreck, Breaker, and Clutch went with him. Short Fuse and Duke followed.

"You coming along, Hauser?" Short Fuse asked.

"Wouldn't miss it for the world, Eric," Duke said, and both of them laughed.

Scarlett sighed and shook her head. "Sorry, guys. I think I'm gonna have to sit this one out. I'm not in the mood for going to a bar right now."

"Aw, come on," Clutch urged. "It will be fun, I promise."

"No, I think I'd rather go home and curl up with a movie or something. You have fun though, you can tell me all about it tomorrow."

"What about you, Stalker?" Duke asked.

Stalker smiled and waved them on. "No, I'm gonna stay here for a little while and go over those files with Hawk. Maybe I'll catch up with you guys later."

"Have fun," Hawk called out. "But don't have too much fun. I expect you all back here bright-eyed and bushy-tailed at six o'clock tomorrow morning."

"Sure thing," Gung-Ho called back as they entered the elevator.

Snake Eyes walked out after the others, arms casually at his sides. Scarlett was waiting for him in the lobby. She smiled warmly and brushed some loose strands of hair out of her face, tucking them behind her ear.

"What about you?" she asked. "Not going out with the guys?"

Snake Eyes merely shook his head. "_I'm not a big fan of bars_," he signed. "_I get too many strange looks_."

"Maybe if you just opened up a bit," Scarlett suggested. "You could go out without your mask on, for example. You'd probably fit right in."

"_Perhaps. Maybe I'll try that sometime_."

"I hope so. I'd like to see your face one of these days."

They walked to the elevator and when it opened up, they got inside. As the doors closed, Scarlett smiled to herself and gave Snake Eyes a playful nudge. "How about you walk me to my car then?"

"_I would be happy to_," Snake Eyes signed. Although Scarlett couldn't be sure, she got the feeling that Snake Eyes was smiling behind his mask.


	44. Epilogue

Epilogue

Cobra Commander sat in darkness, contemplating the future. In the room with him, lined up against the walls, were half a dozen of his most highly-trained soldiers, three on each side, each of them smartly dressed in a dark red military uniform with gold trim and gold buttons down the front of their jacket. They wore black boots and a sleek red helmet with a black facemask and visor. In their arms, they carried dull black assault rifles.

Through the doorway, a figure in white entered the room. Storm Shadow, his white trenchcoat crisp and clean, almost glowed in the soft light, his appearance in sharp contrast to Cobra Commander, whose own uniform was dark blue and currently bathed in shadow. What little light there was reflected off Storm Shadow's white outfit, making the room slightly brighter.

"You have made our travel arrangements?" Cobra Commander asked, his voice low, as if he was distracted by something.

"Yes," Storm Shadow replied. Since the events in Springfield, he had chosen not to wear his mask in the Commander's presence. His face was no longer concealed from Cobra.

Cobra Commander leaned forward in his throne, his reflective silver facemask mirroring the dark room. Storm Shadow, seeing his reflection looking back at him, turned to the left and right, noticing the Cobra soldiers on guard in the room.

"What do you think of my new elite guard?" Cobra Commander asked eagerly. "They are my Crimson Guard. I have great plans for them. Come, Storm Shadow, allow me to show you the future of Cobra."

With that, he stood up and rapidly walked off the raised dais to a side door, his black cape rustling behind him. Two of the Crimson Guards followed him wordlessly, and Storm Shadow trailed behind. Cobra Commander led them down a narrow hallway to another large room, where more Crimson Guards were stationed.

A dry erase board took up one entire wall of the room, and there were messages and notes scrawled all across its surface in a multitude of colors, as well as dozens of pictures taped to it, some circled, some connected to others with hastily-drawn arrows and lines. Storm Shadow immediately recognized some of the pictures.

"Imagine," Cobra Commander rasped. "Imagine Cobra agents infiltrating every level of the government. We are going to set up a program to insert our own men into high-ranking positions across the country. Political advisors, government officials, banking executives, religious leaders. All of them will have Cobra agents very close by. In time, our agents will be able to directly affect policy on a national level."

"Why not create policy yourself?" Storm Shadow asked. "Let one of your own people get elected. You have the money and influence to swing an election if you had to."

"It is tempting," Cobra Commander said in a whisper as he looked across the board at the pictures of business leaders and state representatives. "But anyone seeking political office is subject to intense scrutiny. Their entire past will be investigated in the search for scandal and controversy. Our people would be discovered. No, we want to be the invisible force behind the scenes. Our people will work in the background, where they are just as powerful, but without the constant public attention."

"What about the military?"

"Yes," the Commander said smoothly, "The military is the only part of our plan that is incomplete. Trying to infiltrate the Pentagon will be much harder than sneaking someone into a business executive's inner circle. That is a long-term goal. Although I already have started a plan to get some of our men into the FBI and CIA."

"Impressive," Storm Shadow conceded. "But if you are directing your efforts toward domestic affairs, why are we traveling to Europe?"

"We need more funding," the Commander said, standing up straight and smoothing out wrinkles in his uniform. "And we need some new employees to replace the late Doctor Mindbender and Major Bludd. I have some people in mind."

"I thought you could create the serum on your own without Mindbender's help."

"Of course we can. We have already produced about half of our shipments to our buyers overseas. Do you think I would have terminated Mindbender if I still needed him?"

"Then why are you getting someone to replace him?"

"I need someone to build upon his work," the Commander said cryptically. "We can go much further with the serum, I am sure of it. I need someone with the ambition and foresight to go even further than Mindbender dared."

"And then what?"

"Then we can move forward with our larger goals in mind."

They left the room and went down the hall to a staircase leading upward. So far, this smaller facility lacked elevators. Cobra Commander's boots clicked harshly on the concrete steps as they ascended, the two guards still accompanying them, and Storm Shadow bringing up the rear. As they reached the top of the steps, bright sunlight shone in from nearby windows.

Cobra Commander walked out in front of the open bay windows to look out at the area in front of the building. There was a dirt road heading straight ahead and several half-completed buildings in the middle of construction on either side of the road. Large yellow construction vehicles, bulldozers and backhoes, were on the move, tearing up the ground and clearing away debris. Incomplete wooden structures were raised all around, new frames for buildings, waiting for walls and windows to be installed.

There were dozens of men outside, energetically working on the new construction projects, steadily cutting wood and pouring concrete, studying blueprints and laying pipe and cables. The entire area was a frantic scramble of manual labor, as teams of Cobra agents began to build their new town in the middle of the Oregon wilderness.

"In time," Cobra Commander said softly, "We won't have to hide. This town will be another temporary base of operations. Soon, we will take our first step toward legitimacy, our true arrival to the world. And then you will see my plans for the future."

"What do you mean?" Storm Shadow asked.

"An island," Cobra Commander said. "An island out in the Pacific. Far from the jurisdiction of the United States. We are going to make that island our home. Our very own Cobra Island."

**THE END**

_Thanks so much to all the people who have been reading the story and leaving so many reviews! I am just thrilled to have finished this novel, after two years of working on it. I know I got sidetracked a few times and didn't update for a few months at a time, but I'm happy that I was able to focus on this and finish it without too many delays. I was always very motivated by the reviews and messages, so thanks to everyone who talked with me about the story._

_The finished novel was actually pretty close to my original story outline, which I first published here two years ago. There were a few minor differences; in my outline, an entire unit of Cobra troops attack the Pit, not just Storm Shadow. I also had Shipwreck get wounded during the shootout in New York, and I had a scene during the final battle where Short Fuse saves Duke's life. I also wanted to add more details about Storm Shadow's past, as well as more details about the Baroness. But the story didn't always feel right when I tried to force things that didn't fit, so I did make a few changes as I wrote it._

_Anyway, some of you have already asked me about a possible sequel. I started working on an outline a long time ago, but as of right now I can't say when I'll have time to write a full sequel. I already have several writing projects lined up for next year, and I just don't have time to work on a GI Joe sequel as well. I probably won't have time to even finish all the stuff I have planned already. So for the time being, GI Joe will have to wait. If you have followed movie news, you'll know that they are working on a sequel to the GI Joe movie already, so maybe I'll be able to start writing my own sequel when the new movie comes out next year. But I really don't think I'll be able to dedicate time to a sequel until 2013 at the earliest._

_But I do have one chapter of the sequel already written! I actually wrote it like eight months ago. It will be one of the early chapters, maybe the first chapter, I haven't decided yet. As an added bonus, this new chapter introduces two of the characters I plan to introduce in the sequel. So if you want to check out a special sneak-preview of the sequel, check out the next chapter!_

_Thanks again to everyone for reading!  
_


	45. Sequel Preview

_And now, a special sneak-preview of GI Joe: The Pursuit of Cobra._

Morocco - Present Day

The afternoon market in Rabat, Morocco was crowded and busy. Locals dressed in traditional flowing robes and scarves mingled with more modern citizens in jeans and t-shirts, along with gawking American tourists and brazen sellers shouting their wares. The harsh sun beat down on the city, without a breath of wind or a single cloud in the sky. Moroccan Chaabi music drifted across the crowd from speakers at one of the vendor booths, almost drowned out by the loud hum of people talking.

An old woman sat against a crumbling portion of wall near the market, just inside a grassy area surrounded in a waist-high stone wall. She wore a long, tattered maroon robe with the hood up, obscuring her face. She robe was dusty and ragged at the hem, and was so long it covered her feet. She glanced up as people walked past, her eyes peering out from underneath the hood, her face hidden in shadow.

She reached into the hood and touched her ear. Then suddenly, she got up and brushed dust from her backside. She placed her hand on the edge of the wall and carefully looked out into the crowd. A group of Moroccan teenagers ran past her, laughing.

"Hey grandma, you need help?" one of the kids said in Arabic.

The old woman waved the kids away. "No, no, I'm fine," she replied, also in Arabic.

She proceeded to walk out into the bustling crowd, picking and weaving her way through the mass of bodies like a running back dodging through a defensive line. She skipped across the hot cobblestones as the edge of her robe swished behind her. People barely noticed her as she brushed by them. Her face remained hidden by the hood the entire time.

She ducked down an adjacent alleyway and scurried past crates and baskets lined up along the faded walls, marked with narrow doorways and tiny windows. The woman reached up and touched her ear again, then quickly increased her pace.

She emerged into an open street lined with small houses and open coffee shops, and cafés with white metal chairs and tables out on the sidewalk. The street was narrow and paved in brown stone. More tourists sat and enjoyed their drinks, while locals walked up and down the sidewalk. A few of them glanced in the old woman's direction, but paid her no heed.

Parts of Morocco featured ancient buildings and Berber homes that looked like the pueblo villages found in the southeastern United States. But this neighborhood was more modern, and the buildings were all tan or white with sloped roofs and gables, with tiny front yards enclosed by metal fences. The buildings along the same side of the street as the café were loft apartments, three stories tall with little square windows. The taller buildings cut a shadow down across the street, and the café customers got to sit in the shade.

The old woman peered out from underneath her hood and saw a pair of Arabic men wearing business suits standing at the corner, one of them reading a newspaper. The other looked over his shoulder. A tiny white earpiece was visible, tucked into his ear, the wire wrapped over his ear and then down under his collar.

There was a small blue van parked nearby. A man wearing a long gray robe had the back doors open and was taking out small crates of fruit and vegetables. He stacked them on the sidewalk and glanced around casually. An American couple walked down the street, looking up at the buildings and snapping photos with a digital camera. The man wore a blue t-shirt and khakis, while the woman wore a white sun dress and a wide-brimmed hat to block the sun.

There were always tourists in Morocco. It was one of the strongest allies the United States had in the entire Arab world, and certainly the oldest. Morocco had been the very first country to recognize the United States as a nation, all the way back in 1777, and their friendly treaty with the US was the oldest treaty in US history. In spite of this old alliance (or perhaps because of it), Morocco was a target for violence by Islamic terrorists, and had been the location of suicide bombings in 2003 and 2007.

The old woman folded her arms into her wide sleeves and continued down the street, which curved to the left as it went uphill. On the right side of the street there was a row of houses and a government building at the end of the street, surrounded by a tall metal fence. Two more Arabic men wearing traditional colored robes walked down the other side of the street. The old woman risked a glance back the way she had come, but saw no one looking at her.

She paused at the intersection, watching as a few small cars rolled down the street and the café full of tourists continued chatting. She could smell the scent of coffee even across the street. She turned the corner and went down the next street, crossing it after a few cars drove by, kicking up dust and sand.

There was another alleyway, and this one led behind the houses and the government building to the next street over. The old woman stepped up over the curb and glanced down the sidewalk before heading into the alley. A pair of foul-smelling dumpsters greeted her, next to a pile of garbage bags. The stone under her feet was cracked and split, and tufts of grass broke though here and there. The woman stood in the alley and waited for the space of a few breaths, sweating under her robe from the hot sun, smelling the garbage nearby, the taste of dust in her mouth.

From a doorway twenty yards away, a man emerged. He wore a gray suit, unbuttoned, with a white dress shirt and no tie. In contrast, he wore black boots and had on black leather gloves. A small duffel bag was slung over his shoulder. He faced the other direction, so the woman could not see his face, only his dark brown hair.

Suddenly, with one swift motion, the woman reached down to grab the bottom of her robe and then pulled it up. Underneath, she wore khaki pants and a black tank top. From under the folds of the robe, she pulled a fully automatic Colt Commando compact machine gun and aimed it down the alley. Her hood fell down, revealing that she was not an old Arabic woman at all, but a young Caucasian woman with short brown hair and bright blue eyes.

"Don't move!" she screamed in English. "Stop where you are!"

The man froze but did not turn around.

"Subject spotted in the alley behind the offices!" the woman shouted into her microphone. "Need backup here now!" She took a few steps forward, keeping her gun aimed forward, eyes looking right down the sights. "Put your hands in the air!" she shouted. "Turn around now!"

The man carefully lifted his hands, very slowly, but did not turn around. The woman's eyes went wide when she saw a detonator in the man's hand, his thumb right above the trigger button.

"Don't do it!" she screamed. "Drop it right now! We have this whole block surrounded! You have nowhere to go!"

The man's head turned a little, just enough for her to see a smile curving his lips. His thumb depressed the trigger.

In a moment, the world went black and red, and she was thrown backward by the tremendous shockwave. The entire block seemed to lift up in a cataclysm of fire and rubble, the blast of heat burning her skin. She flew through the air and miraculously landed in the pile of garbage bags, which cushioned her landing. A wave of smoke and dust flooded the alley, blinding and choking her. Rubble and debris crashed down like meteors.

The next thing she knew, someone was shouting her name.

"Burnett! Burnett! Jesus, are you okay?"

It was one of the Arabic men who had been reading the newspaper on the corner. He extended a hand and Burnett was pulled to her feet. In the man's other hand was a Beretta, and hanging from his breast pocket was a badge signifying him as a member of the Royal Moroccan Gendarmerie.

Alison Hart-Burnett looked down what was left of the alley. Half of the nearest building was missing, collapsed into the alley, blocking it completely. A huge fire raged on the other side, where the government offices had been. A tower of black smoke drifted up into the sky like a mushroom cloud. Her face was streaked with dirt and soot, and a trickle of blood trailed down the side of her face from when a piece of rubble had struck her.

"Come on," the man said. "Emergency vehicles are on their way."

"He was right here," Burnett said. "I was looking right at him."

"How did he get inside? We had the whole building locked up tight."

"I don't know, but I caught him leaving. He didn't even look like he was in a hurry." She leaned over and put her hands on her knees, taking a few deep breaths. She could feel the heat from the fire, even this far away. She wearily pulled the maroon robe all the way off and tossed it into one of the dumpsters. She saw her machine gun lying on the ground and walked over to pick it up.

"Where was he?" the man asked.

"Right down there," she said, pointing.

"If he was standing that close, the blast must have killed him."

Burnett silently shook her head. She didn't think he would have been that foolish. When they examined the wreckage, she felt confident that they wouldn't find a body. No matter how devastating the destruction, he always found a way out. Burnett had been chasing after him for four years, and she was always one step behind.

The terrorist known as the Firefly had gotten away again.


End file.
